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impawsiblecat · 11 months ago

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100 Days of Deathduo

Traffic Life AU: Red

Would like to clarify that this story was written out of order and is going to be posted out of order and without context. Sorry about that! Have not written the first few chapters yet.

Tw: temporary character death and violence

Of course Thyme would come when Icee was away mining, preparing. Neither of them had gotten anything, they hadn’t made sure they were prepared, hadn’t know they needed to prepare, and now Clover is on the run from a red Thyme with iron armor and a single golden apple found from a chest. Alone. There’s food in the furnace, Clover’s contribution, and wheat that has yet to be turned into bread on the crafting table, but that isn’t going to do her much good when she is unable to reach it without getting cornered.

It’s not going to end well. And Clover doesn’t want to die. Fear is pumping through her heart and echoing through her bones as she runs away from Thyme. She is getting tired fairly quickly, and she can still hear arrows whizzing past her as she weaves through the trees. She either has to fight or has to continue fleeing.

The choice is made for her when an arrow hits her back and she stumbles, allowing Thyme to catch up on her. Clover takes out her rudimentary wooden shield as she whirls around, terrified when she see Thyme close by, so close that she barely has time to block the sword coming at her before it hits her neck.

Her shield isn’t enough. The first thing she notices when she wakes back up in her bed is how much lighter she feels. She isn’t worried. She isn’t scared, although a distant part of her brain says she should be, says she is so much closer to permanent death like this, red, close to being gone. That part of her brain is drowned out by her glee when she checks her communicator and sees the rows of people she should murder, kill as soon as she gets the chance.

No wonder people had been killing each other left and right. Clover hasn’t done anything yet, but already she can understand Thyme’s gleeful laughter that continues to echo through her ears.

Icee has messaged her, likely having seen the death message. Icee doesn’t know how wonderful it is to be red, to be free of the burdens and worries of yellow. How sad.

“Clover, are you ok? I saw the message in chat… are you like the other people with red names?”

Oh Icee. Clover was doing fine, amazing actually. She would probably be doing even better if she could go out and murder someone, but unfortunately she didn’t have any gear. That was Icee’s job. Hopefully they would come back soon with everything.

“I’m doing great Icee! I’m just making the bread now, we will probably need it later! Never hurts to be prepared.”

Clover sends the message. Maybe when Icee was aware of how it was on this side of things, they could murder everyone else together. That would be so nice. They could have so much fun. Her communicator buzzes when she receives Icee’s reply.

“Alright… if you are sure… I’m coming back up with some materials right now. I was able to find quite a few good stuff. You are sure you are alright? You are acting awfully happy for someone who just died…”

That was true, and rather unfortunate, really. It would be nice if Clover did have a few more lives, a bit more of a buffer towards death, and she feels a flash of jealousy when she sees Icee’s name, still yellow, on her communicator. Although, really, it was just so nice to not have to worry about, well anything really. Still, it would be better, more fair really, if everyone was red, wouldn’t it?

“Doing just fine, Icee! Dying isn’t so bad, really. Do you want me to head over the mine and meet you halfway?”

It’s not like Clover has anything better to do. She makes the bread quickly and gathers the food out of the furnace. She’s so prepared, really. If only she had better gear, she could go and hunt someone right now. It’s almost itchy, the feeling that she should go and murder, but it wouldn’t be smart to do it right now.

Clover hums a light little tune while she goes on her way towards the cave Icee had gone to. Lovely Icee, who would come back with diamonds that could be crafted into swords, and iron that could be used to start fires. She catches a glimpse of someone through the trees, Tea it looks like, and it takes effort to look away, to wait. Patience is key. There will be plenty time later, when Clover is able to confidently go into a fight.

Clover checks her communicator when she reaches the entrance of the dimly lit cave, a little bit surprised when she sees no response from Icee. They likely got lost in the monotony of mining. A good thing, for sure. It means that they will bring back more resources. In the entrance of the cave,, Clover can see a creeper. The sight of it when she was yellow would have sent her running like a coward, but she is cured of that fear now. She carefully sneaks up on it and uses it’s own tactics, and it takes three swings of her iron sword afterwards before she is pocketing the gunpowder.

It’s quite the handy thing. Perhaps Clover can use it for tnt minecarts or firework rockets.

The rest of the cave seems to be lit up a bit more, and it isn’t hard to find the staircase where Icee must have mined down. It passes by a ravine that hasn’t been lit up, and Clover can vaguely see a couple spiders and a skeleton at the bottom. No wonder Icee hadn’t gone in it. Clover is tempted to go down it when she spots a creeper through the darkness, but it isn’t really worth it for the potential of a few gunpowder. She still has some self preservation, after all.

Clover passes through the staircase, going past the deepslate barrier, and she eventually finally finds the end of the staircase. If she squints, she can just barely see Icee in the distance, the gleam of her pickaxe cutting through the dark stone. It takes a couple minutes for Clover to get there, but it’s worth it when she sees the tenseness of Icee’s shoulders when Icee finally hears her footsteps.

They turn around suddenly, and Clover doesn’t know whether she should feel offended or proud at Icee’s glance of fear. It doesn’t matter, though, Clover has no intention of harming Icee at the moment despite the way she analyzes their weak points. It would be difficult to win in a fight against Icee in a small tunnel, especially since Clover can see the gleam of enchantments on their chestplate. Besides, Icee is their teammate. It wouldn’t be beneficial to break that trust.

“Icee! There you are. Did you get lost in the mining grind?” Clover asks happily, looking at Icee’s wary yellow eyes. They would look better red, but oh well. Maybe later.

“Hi Clover, I uh. I guess you could say that, yeah. Why did you come down here? I thought you disliked mining deepslate?” Icee asks, confusion in their gaze.

“I always like spending time with you, Icee! Why wouldn’t I be here? Besides, the food is finished and honestly, I don’t really want to be up there with minimal gear. It would be a bit hard to fight with others if I don’t even have enchanted armour, you know!” Clover says, holding out some of the bread she baked towards Icee. She smiles at the other and watches as Icee starts to slowly untense.

It’s so normal, the dynamic Clover has with Icee, and it feels so much lighter than when she was yellow. So peaceful, despite Clover being close to death. It’s peaceful in the way that Clover wants to take the diamond axe Icee has recently given her and shove it into their ribs, peaceful in the way one is when they want to scream into a pillow for no reason other than they have too many emotions. Peaceful in the way her thoughts are constantly buzzing with an underlying need to kill.

Instead, she just continues smiling at Icee, she helps strip mine, the need for more resources, more power, more of a chance to win. Clover doesn’t know what she wants to win. She hadn’t even realized she was playing a game. It sounds fun though, beating everyone, killing everyone. Exhilarating. She wants to win. She will win.

She finds more diamonds, as well as some lava, which she scoops up into a bucket to be stored for later. She only glances at Icee twice with the bucket in hand as they mine just a few blocks away. Even when they finally turn their back, content in Clover’s passiveness, Clover doesn’t do anything. It would be so easy to sneak up on them like the creeper earlier, but Clover doesn’t.

As the bloodlust itches beneath her skin, Clover finds the rest of the diamonds needed for a full set of armour. She shows them off proudly to Icee, laughing when Icee beams at her. They are ready. It’s enough. Enough diamonds, enough resources to win. If only they had time to go to the nether for netherite. Still, it was unlikely Icee would go with Clover with their yellowness, and besides, Clover didn’t want to be that far away from people anyways.

‘Clover! We did it! That was a lot of mining.” Icee says, bringing out the enchanting table and handing some lapis over to Clover. She takes the items handed to her and works on strengthening her gear, on becoming more powerful. They got lucky, really, finding enough diamonds for both of them.

“You are right Icee! We did it! We can go back up and prepare some more now.” Clover says joyfully. She’s almost ready to satiate the itch. To win. To get more trap material and kill some people and win.

“Are we not prepared? What else do we need Clover?” Icee asks, confused. Right. Icee is not a mind reader. Icee cannot see Clover’s thoughts of elaborate traps, of ideas to ensure the downfall of everyone else.

“Well, we probably need to kill all the creepers we see. Maybe collect some string for some bows, flint for arrows. Things like that! You never know when a bow may be useful.” Clover says.

“Ah! Of course. Mob proofing the area around our house will keep us so safe. And bows would definitely be helpful for killing mobs from a safer distance.” Icee says. Clover laughs at the joke. Of course that isn’t the reason why she needs gunpowder and weapons.

“Are you ready to head up now? I think we have enough things.” Clover asks, giving Icee the enchanting table back. They have wasted enough time back here. She checks her communicator, looking at the time, smiling when she sees a few death messages she had missed. It’s been a few hours since she was at the surface, and it’s closer to nighttime. Perfect timing, really.

“Mhmm!” Icee says, turning back and heading towards the staircase. Clover follows, and it’s a good thing she made a lot of food because the journey is fairly long. The staircase is steep, but it was worth it for the diamonds the two gained. They pass the line where the deepslate turns into stone, and further up is the ravine. Clover watches as Icee cautiously peers into it, down the darkness, in such a perfect position to greet the mobs that await her below. It would be so easy.

The next thing Clover realizes is that her arm is outstretched and her communicator is buzzing, a pile of items on the floor of the ravine and the space where Icee was previously. She smiles at the death message, and cautiously digs down to Icee’s items before the mobs can get to them and destroy them. She collects everything, and manages to get a few pieces of gunpowder from the creeper before she heads up.

She meets Icee at the top of the cave, the dimly lit entrance, their eyes red and wide. Just how they were supposed to be. It looks so much better, and the gleam of bloodlust suits Icee.

“Are you ready for some fun?” Clover asks, and Icee smiles.

#deathduo #deathduo my beloved #rat server <3 #100 days of deathduo #rat server #traffic life au!#my beloved #one of my favorite aus #i have so much planned for this one #im gonna write so much for it when summer break comes around #ahhhhh #also feel free to ask if you have any questions!

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starfinss · 2 years ago

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I saw "Pokemon shield is also acceptable" and had to say this. Milo cuddle fic? Please he's my favorite gym leader from sw/sh, he's such a sweetheart

I adore Milo, and Sw/Sh is more than acceptable! Milo looks like he’d give great hugs, a big ole teddy bear. Sorry this took a second for me to reply to, I was trying to figure out how to write this, plus I had to boot up my copy of Sword on my switch to do some surveying of the scenery, but I should be good to go now.

(Story starts under the cut!)

— ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ

All you wanted to do was go home.

Maybe everyone had a case of the fuck-it-Fridays, maybe it was the unexpected rain, maybe it was an amalgamation of things. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that everyone working at the offices of Turffleid Orchard seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and they seemed to be taking it out on you.

You were fine, though, you really were. You’d only had one instance of crying in the bathroom, and that was honestly admirable. You had thick skin. You could last until five o’clock when it was time to go home. It was just one more hour, and then you’d be able to go home to your loving boyfriend and his mouthwatering cooking. That sounded perfect. You were already imagining a meal of whatever fried veggies he’d harvested that day, farm fresh and delicious.

“(Y/N).”

Your coworker, Ella, snapped you out of your daydream as she peeked her head into your office.

“The boss wants that report, like, yesterday. On the apple crate delivery to Monostoke.”

You glanced at the report, which was sitting on your desk in front of you. You’d only just received it about an hour ago, so you were only about halfway done filling it out. You gave Ella a desperate look, and she sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do to stall him. How far along are you?”

“About halfway,” you replied, exasperated, “blimey, today should just be cancelled.”

She gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, cheers to that.”

With little more to add, Ella turned and left the office, undoubtedly to stall your impatient boss, which you knew would buy you roughly twenty minutes. With a deep sigh, you combed your fingers through your hair and picked up your pen, trying to focus your scattered thoughts back on the task at hand.

You glanced at your clock, groaning inwardly when you saw that the hands had hardly even moved. You turned the clock down, glaring at it as if it had insulted you.

The more your pen moved over the paper, the more you felt like your brain was melting out your ears, so you decided that after your were done with this, you were going home. You’d done enough work for five people, what, with the flu going around and accounting for the lack of staff that day.

With a soft sound of triumph, you signed your name at the bottom of the report, and stood up to walk the report to your boss’s office down the hall. Ella was halfway perched on the desk, in the middle of telling some joke as you walked in and set the manila folder containing the report down.

“I’m heading home, hope that’s alright,” you said.

Your boss nodded absently, his attention still focused on whatever Ella had been saying. “Careful of the rain. Cheers.”

“Yeah, cheers.”

You maintained your professional posture until you got outside the door, after which your shoulders slumped. You were done. Arceus, you were tired. With little fanfare, you trudged back to your office to grab your coat and spare umbrella before beginning the short walk back to your house, which you shared with Milo.

The rain was falling in sheets, soaking your shoes and socks as it sprayed beneath your umbrella, and you felt frustrated tears prick your eyes as everything began to overwhelm you. Work had been a nightmare, you were exhausted, and now your feet were wet. You whispered a creative swear as water seeped into your socks, fully solidifying just how horrible your day had been.

And, to top it off, as you were digging your keys out of your purse, you accidentally flung them down beside the front steps of your house and into a puddle. You stared at them in betrayed silence.

That was it. Your limit.

All at once, you felt the floodgates open, tears beading at your lash line as you rapidly blinked them away. With a frustrated huff, swallowing the lump in your throat, you scooped the sodden keys out of the puddle and shoved one into the lock. After some unwelcome struggle with said lock, made sticky with the weather, you managed to get the door open, finally stepping into the foyer and folding your dripping umbrella. You leaned heavily against the door once it was shut behind you, taking a minute to breathe before going about taking your shoes and coat off.

There was movement deeper in the house, followed by a delighted chirp, undoubtedly coming from Gossefleur, who enjoyed accompanying Milo while he was cooking. You heard him speaking softly to the Pokémon before more movement, and you knew he was coming to greet you.

Quickly, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand before taking a seat on the bench beside the door to unzip your ankle boots, which you placed beside Milo’s work boots on the shoe rack. You then moved to hang up your coat in the closet.

“You’re home early,” Milo remarked as he came into view, “how was your day?”

You felt that lump return to your throat as your mind played back the day’s events. There’s no way Milo missed the way you swallowed it with an audible sniffle.

“Well,” you said, “it started off okay.”

Without looking at him, you moved to walk past your boyfriend and into the house, but he caught your hand in his, forcing you to stop in your tracks.

“Sunshine,” he said softly, and the sweet pet name made your heart flutter in your chest, “look at me, will you?”

You knew you couldn’t. Because if you did, you’d just start crying. One look into his eyes and you’d be a blubbering mess, and after the day you’d had, that was the last thing you wanted.

Milo moved so he was standing in front of you, your hand still encased in his as he used his opposite hand to tilt your chin up to look at him.

He smiled tenderly, affection in his pretty eyes.

“There she is,” he said, “there’s my sunshine.”

Tears blurred your vision as you buried your face in his chest, and you felt his arms wrap around you, holding you close.

“Tell me everything,” he said, in no hurry.

You sniffled. “Today just sucked.”

“Yeah?” He said, “that kind of day?”

You nodded, swallowing back a sob.

Milo let you cry, stroking your hair and holding you until you felt just a little better. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and you smiled finally as you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Let’s eat on the sofa,” he said, and you nodded.

“Okay.”

You changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of pajama pants, as well as one of Milo’s sweatshirts, which nearly went down to your knees. The sweatshirt smelled of fresh grass clippings and the earthy soap he used, which filled you with comfort.

Dinner was a warm veggie soup with lentils and abundant spices to add an extra kick. It filled you with warmth and comfort as you ate, and once you were done, Milo didn’t even allow you the chance to get up before he took your bowl to the kitchen for you.

The television was switched on, tuned to your favorite show, and you sighed happily as Milo pulled you against him, reclining back on the sofa. He made room for you by parting his legs, allowing you to nestle on his chest. He was perfectly warm, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear was enough to make you start to feel sleepy.

“Baby,” you said, and Milo looked down at you.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He canted his head, confused. “What for?”

You shrugged, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “I dunno. Just being you. I had such an awful day, and now you’re here to make it all better.”

Milo smiled, pulling you closer. “You always make my day better, sunshine. I should be thanking you.”

He leaned in to kiss you and you melted into him, adoring the way his hand cradled your jaw, thumb smoothing along your cheekbone. His lips were soft against yours, and you were left smiling as you pulled away, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Can you just hold me?” You asked quietly, and Milo chuckled.

“As if you even need to ask.”

His arms tightened around your body, and you nestled close as your eyes foxed on the tv screen, blissfully comfortable and happy. Milo was home to you. He was what made coming home so much better at the end of the day, and moments like this, where you were laying wrapped up in him, those were your favorites.

You felt Milo tuck your hair back away from your face.

“That’s my hoodie,” he remarked, tugging lightly at the fabric. You grinned.

“That a problem?”

“Nah. You just look so cute in it that I didn’t even notice.”

Your face flushed. Even after you’d been with Milo for as long as you had, he always knew exactly how to make heat rise to your cheeks. He was genuine in a way that not many people are, and that was one of your favorite things about him.

“Maybe you should wear my clothes sometime,” you said, and Milo snorted.

“Not sure they’d fit me, love.”

You snickered at the mental image of your burly boyfriend trying to fit into one of your shirts.

“I know, I’m joking.”

Milo smiled and kissed you on the head before relaxing back into the sofa cushions.

You ended up marathoning episodes of your favorite show until it grew late, and Milo got up once to make some popcorn, which you shared. It was the perfect evening, after such an awful day.

“You know I love you, right, sunshine?”

You looked up at Milo. “Of course. I love you, too.”

Milo cupped your face. “Never forget it.”

“I won’t.”

You slept better than you had in weeks that night, wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms.

Fin.

Hope that was what you wanted, anon! This was an absolute joy to write.

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

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Welcome back :D

Maybe something with Scar in MCC?

so we’re jumping right back into it with some ANGST! yaaaay!

also i know some of the people *cough*DREAM*cough* weren’t in Scar's first MCC but for the purposes of fic, they are ;)

…

“You excited for your first MCC, Scar?” asks Pete, giving his newest friend a nudge.

Scar grins back at him. “Heck yeah! I just wish Grian could’ve been here.”

“Well, he’s watching,” says Martyn.

“I know, it’s just not the same. At least I won’t have to face him in any of the games, though.”

RyguyRocky leans around Pete to address the others: “Speaking of facing people in games, there’s been a substitution. Ren’s out, Cub’s in.”

The colour drains from Scar’s face. “Cub?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t matter though, right? One hermit is much like another.” Ry glances awkwardly at Scar. “No offense, of course.”

Scar falls silent and glances up at the sky. He hasn’t told his teammates but he’s nervous about facing the other hermits in the games. There’s no way he’d want any of them to go easy on him but at the same time, he doesn’t want to go too hard in case they accidentally go too far.

But now, he’s facing his best friend. He could have handled facing Grian, but not Cub. Scar and Grian fight all the time. But Scar hasn’t even sparred amicably with Cub in many years, let alone actually faced off against him in an actual match.

Maybe it won’t happen, he thinks. Maybe Survival Games won’t even get picked.

But fate decides to prove him wrong.

Scar’s hands are clasped tightly together as he waits for this match of Survival Games to begin. The second-to-last game and his team aren’t doing so well in the rankings, but it’s a lot better than Scar expected. At least they’re not last.

But this is the game he was dreading. He is not a fighter. Build Mart went very well, but now THIS. He’s discussed strategies with his team of course, but talking about something is very different to executing it, and executing it WELL.

Halfway through the game, Scar manages to get separated from his teammates. Stumbling up a hill outside of the faux-city, clutching his sword, he comes face-to-face with another person on their own, a person he had hoped not to see during this game.

Cub stares back at his best friend, his grip on his sword tightening so much that his knuckles start to turn white. This is what he had been dreading. Of all the games to come face-to-face with Scar, this is the worst.

After a moment, Scar lifts his shield. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

“If not me, it’ll be someone else.”

“I don’t want it to be you.”

Cub glances over his shoulder. In the distance, he can see the outline of Dream mercilessly hacking into another player with an iron axe.

The message Vixella was slain by Dream flashes up in chat.

“Yes,” Cub says, raising his sword. “You do.”

The two have been close friends for many years; they know each other’s fighting style by heart. Every time one gets close to gaining the upper hand, the other brings them back down.

Finally, Scar makes a mistake. Trying to anticipate Cub’s next move, he slides to the side, ready to bring up his shield to defend. But he mistimes his move by a split second, and a split second is all it takes.

Cub’s sword slices a gash in Scar’s midriff, causing him to cry out and drop to his knees, his hand flying to cover his wound. He can hardly concentrate through the pain.

“I’m sorry,” Cub murmurs, lifting his sword.

Hunched over and unable to see his best friend’s face, Scar closes his eyes.

…but the final blow he’s expecting never comes.

Instead, he hears a pained grunt, followed by a clattering sound.

Cubfan135 was slain by PeteZahHutt

When Scar lifts his head, he sees Martyn offering his hand to him. Scar takes it and Martyn helps him to his feet, supporting him and keeping him upright. Over Martyn’s shoulder, he can see Pete picking up Cub’s dropped sword and Ry covering him with a shield.

“Is he okay?” Pete asks, moving to the other side to watch the group’s back.

Scar moves his shaky arm out of the way. Blood is smeared over his wrist and hand, and more is leaking from the wound in his midriff.

“He’s hurt,” Martyn responds. “Scar, can you walk?”

“I-I think so.” Scar clears his throat as his voice cracks from pain. “But I’ll just slow you down. Just leave me here and you might stand a chance.”

“No way that’s happening,” says Pete, gently placing his hand on Scar’s shoulder. “Win or lose, we do it as a team. Ry, do you still have that healing potion?”

His teammates’ voices fading, Scar’s gaze fixes on Cub’s sword, now held in Pete’s hand. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Cub didn’t manage to kill him. If Cub was able to inflict such pain on him while trying to SPARE him pain, he doesn’t want to think what someone like Dream might do to him.

“Scar?” prompts Pete suddenly. “We gotta get moving. Are you okay to walk?”

Scar nods weakly. “I am. Let’s go.”

He’ll be fine. They’ll all be fine.

…

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Dream

…

In the stands, a red-sweatered individual watches on, his worry slowly being overshadowed by calm rage.

“I’m coming for you, Dream,” he mutters. “Just you wait.”

#mcc #goodtimeswithscar #petezahhutt #inthelittlewood #ryguyrocky #vaunna’s requests

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annaraejackson · 4 years ago

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You Have Something In Your Teeth

Pairing: Connor Stoll x gn!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of battle, injury, blood, embarrassment

Words: 2,400

Summery: Connor is crushing on Y/N and saved them during the Battle of Manhattan, and Y/N goes to find Connor when they get back to camp to say thank you but it goes wrong for Connor

It was the Battle of Manhattan, and all of Camp Half-Blood was fighting to the best of their abilities. You stood alongside your peers, the friends you have come to know over the past few years, fighting bravely against the hordes of monsters that stood in front of you. Sleeping mortals littered the area around you, even though you and your friends had done your best to move most of them to safety. There had just been too many mortals in the city of Manhattan for that to be done.

You fought, holding your weapon tightly in your hands, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. Your hair stuck to your forehead underneath your helmet, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down your face, your back soaked. You desperately wanted to sit down, just to breathe for a moment until you gathered even a third of your strength back to rejoin the fight. You noticed a group of telekhines making their way down a side alley that nobody had been covering, a large oversight in your opinion, and you took off running for them. You knew that if they made it through the alley they would be able to make their way to the Empire State Building, and even more importantly, Olympus.

“Hey! Flipper! Over here!” You shout, grabbing a stray shoe that was in the alleyway and throwing it, managing to hit one of the telekhines in the back of the head with and holding your sword in hand, glaring down at the seal-like monsters. “And where do you think you’re going?!” You sneer, standing tall through your exhaustion.

The monsters turned and glared at you, all of them baring their ugly teeth as growls sounded from their chests. “We are going to take over Olympus-” the middle telekhine said, “-and we are going to pave the way for Kronos to destroy the Olympians and take his rightful spot on the throne!”

The telekhines charged at you, and you instinctively raised your shield and charged back at them, holding your shield out to block their initial attack before swinging your sword around, lunging at the telekhine on the right, but making sure to keep an eye on the other two seal monsters. You had faced much worse than them during your time at camp, but you knew these particular monsters could be slippery.

If you somehow managed to let even one of them get away and to Olympus, that could potentially spell disaster for your injured friends that were being kept at the home of the gods.

You focused intently on your mission, your body begging for rest but your mind fighting through it. There was no way in Hades you were going to just give in now—not when your camp needed you most. Soon, the three telekhines that had been in front of you were just a gold dust on the ground of the alleyway, your breath heavy as you gripped your sword and shield in hand.

The battle behind you continued to wage on, and as you began to turn around you felt an intense dull pain in your side, and for a moment you thought you had gotten punched. You looked down, seeing a gaping wound in your side which spilled out blood, your nerves finally catching up to you as you felt the sharp pain. Within seconds, you let out a scream as you looked up with wide eyes, seeing a fourth telekhine that had come up behind you, one that you hadn’t even known had been following.

“Nothing can stop us.” The telekhine sneered at you, it’s teeth bared as it watched your every move. You placed one of your hands up against the nearby dumpster in an attempt to steady your already weak body while the other gripped your side, a sad attempt to hold back the blood loss, your knees giving out and causing you to collapse. You looked up at the nearly 7-foot-tall creature, which held it’s sword—glistening red with your blood—high above you, ready to strike down its final blow.

“Wanna bet?” A voice behind the telekhine said, and then suddenly a point showed through the creature's neck, it’s ugly eyes wide in surprise before it burst into dust, revealing Connor Stoll behind it, his chest heaving as he gulped in large breaths of air.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet, so his curly hair hung in his eyes and was sticking to his face and neck due to how much he was sweating, his arms glistening as he gripped his sword double-handed and his feet spread apart ever so slightly to help aid him in his balance. Normally, you never saw Connor without a grin on his face, laughing at some joke or pulling some prank, but today he looked almost terrifying. His lips pressed into a hard line, his face showing no emotion, and his eyes showing nothing but a sheer determination.

In a sick way, he reminded you of his brother, Luke. And you were suddenly very thankful that he was on your side.

As Connor studied you, his expression softened and he placed his sword back in the sheath, taking a few large steps over to you before he knelt down. “How badly are you hurt?” You didn’t say a word, knowing that if you did, you likely wouldn’t even make sense, moving your hand so he could see the wound. The edges of your vision began to blur, and you fell forward.

Connor managed to catch you, holding you in his arms. “Hey- Hey it’s okay! Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” Connor looked up and around, trying to think of what to do before he suddenly got an idea. “I’ll be right back- please don’t die while I’m gone.” He said, gently laying you down before he disappeared.

Wow, you thought, he truly has a way with people.

You managed to follow his request and not die, but you did lose consciousness.

You woke up some time later on Olympus, and spoke with Will Solace about what had happened. He explained to you that Connor Stoll had brought you to Olympus himself, but how he hadn’t been able to stay for very long since his troops needed his help. You had wanted to go find him and help in the battle more, but Will wasn’t sure you were healed up enough to rejoin the fight.

However, luckily it seemed like you weren’t needed in the fight after all. The war was won, and soon all the demigods were taken home, the most injured first, and then as many as possible. The rest of the day went by in a blur, although you scanned all the demigods you saw to see if you could track down Connor, however it seems like you just didn’t have the luck.

Once you were allowed to get up and leave the infirmary, you decided to start on your mission to find Connor to talk to him, going up to anyone you could find to ask if they knew where he was. One person said they had seen him at the Big House, but you didn’t see him there. Another said the camp store- again, out of luck. Finally, you just decided to check out his cabin to see if he was there.

You went up to the large building and knocked on the door, and you heard Connor inside talking with someone, likely Travis. “Connor?” You called, and suddenly the room went quiet. You heard what sounded like muffled arguing, and then the door swung open.

“Hey, Y/N! What do I owe the pleasure?” Connor asked, leaning against the doorframe as he looked at you, his hair disheveled so you figured he hadn’t been in the cabin for too long before you showed up.

“Hey, Connor. I just wanted to stop by and tell you thanks for saving me back there… if it wasn’t for you I don’t think I would have made it.” You said sincerely, kicking your foot back and forth as you looked at him, about to continue when you noticed his mouth was turning… black? You glanced behind Connor’s shoulder and saw Travis who looked to be biting back a laugh, rubbing his face.

“Oh you don’t have to thank me- if it wasn’t for Cecil then Will wouldn’t have been able to meet us halfway to give you ambrosia and nectar, which was what saved you for us to get you to Olympus and really patched up.” Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted side to side awkwardly, but you still couldn’t help but glance down at his mouth which was, gradually, turning a darker shade of black.

“But I do have to thank you, that telekhine would have killed me if it wasn’t for you and your quick action… I really owe you one.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Dear gods, you had wanted to give this guy a heartfelt thank you but now you were having to force yourself not to laugh. Be serious, Y/N.

Connor’s face turned a shade of pink and he looked down at the ground between his feet, in embarrassment. “Well, I’m just glad I could help you in time. I had seen you head towards the alley and thought you could use some backup, especially when I saw the telekhine stab you…” Connor’s voice trailed off as he thought back to that day, and you bit your lip.

Neither of you spoke for a brief moment, and you figured you should get out of there before you burst out laughing from seeing how black his mouth was again. “I should go, I gotta help with some after war stuff… I’ll see you around.” You said, giving Connor a smile before you began to turn around, but then you thought that maybe you should tell him about what was going on, so you turned again to face him. “Hey, Connor?”

Connor perked up a bit, looking hopeful. “Yeah?”

You paused, then chuckled. “You have something in your teeth.” His face fell, and Travis started laughing as you smiled at him, waving before turning to head off and do what you needed to do.

CONNOR’S POV

~~A Few Minutes Earlier~~

Travis and I had just gotten back from going to the Big House to check out the attic, examining our loot before we went to put it away. “So, what are we going to do now?” I asked him, laying back on my bunk and closing my eyes, wanting to rest after the past few days stress, making a face when I felt something hit my face so I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“We are going to try to raid some of the other cabins. Right now would be the best time to-”

At the front of the cabin, there was a knock on the door, so we both immediately stopped talking, hoping that whoever was at the door hadn’t heard what we were talking about. “Connor?” It was Y/N, and immediately I sat up and began to panic.

What did they want? They don’t sound upset. Then suddenly I realized something: my breath probably stank. I had been so busy these past few days rushing around trying to make sure everyone around me was safe and taken care of that I hadn’t had the time to brush my teeth since at least a couple days before. Yeah yeah, gross, but when you’re in a war you kind of just do what you have to do. “Dude, give me some gum.”

“What?”

“I know you keep gum on you, give me some gum.” I said, reaching over and patting his pockets, trying to find which pocket he kept his gum in. Travis had a weird fixation on gum, so he almost always had some on him and when I needed some I usually just took from him.

“Get your own!” Travis said, trying to shove my hands away, although it was too late, I had already grabbed the box and pulled out a piece. “Connor seriously I don’t think-” I popped the stick of gum in my mouth, and Travis let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, okay.”

I took a moment to chew the gum, then I went over to the door and opened it. The interaction was pretty short, and honestly it touched me. I had been worried about them ever since I found them in that alleyway, and I was glad that they came over to find me. I was actually thinking of calling out to them to ask if they wanted to see a movie with me sometime or something when…

“You have something in your teeth.” My heart absolutely dropped. Did I have some food or something in my teeth? Travis started laughing from behind me, and Y/N turned around and headed off, so I immediately turned and bolted over to one of my sister's bunks, digging around in it to find her mirror that she used for when she did make up. Once I found the mirror and held it up, I screamed.

My entire mouth was black. Oh. My. Holy. Hermes’. Headphones. My lips were stained a dark grey, not quite black but almost there, and my teeth were black as was the entire inside of my mouth.

I spun around, glaring at Travis who was holding his stomach, doubled over from laughter. “I told-” He wheezed, “I told you to stop taking-” he wheezed again, nearly falling over this time.

“It’s. Not. Funny.” I huffed, going to spit the chewed up gum in the trash can, the wad of gum pitch black as well as the spit that came with it. “That is so embarrassing, oh my gods. I was gonna ask them out, Travis!” I said, grabbing one of the pillows off the ground and throwing it at him, but he caught it easily.

That only seemed to renew the sense of hilarity my brother was feeling, because he started laughing all over again. “Maybe this will teach you to stop taking my gum!” He laughed, throwing the pillow back at me before he left, and I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, following him out and going to the bathhouses to brush my teeth.

#connor stoll x reader #connor stoll #percy jackson x reader #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #connor stoll imagine #the stoll brothers

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years ago

Note

Dark rwby smut:

Raven has Yang and Weiss hostage and won’t release them. It’s up to Jaune to challenge the bandit leader for the sake of his friend’s freedom.

A knight strode into a bandit camp with purpose.

It sounds like the start of a grand story, some fairytale you’d tell children before bed.

The truth was very different. Jaune Arc had long since abandoned the ideals of heroism. But there was one idea he held onto even now.

An Arc always kept his word.

That’s why he was doing this, he’d sworn to help his friends no matter what and by the gods if he had to take on the most dangerous bandit tribe in fucking Minstral then he would do so. An Arc NEVER went back on his word.

He ignored the squelching mud under his new boots. Or the way his armor sat a little heavier on him than he’d like. The new gauntlets were closer to a robotic hand than the armor most people thought of. A side effect of telling ruby that he was off to save her sister. He’d only just avoided muscle armor. Still, there were worse things than having a suit of armor tailor-made for you by the best blacksmith this side of the afterlife.

It at least let him look the part.

Still, he’d stalled long enough, time to deal with reality.

Raven stood before him.

“You’re a long way from home, boy,” she said, not looking up from the drink she was enjoying. The scantily clad Weiss poured for her. Both her and Yang were chained around the neck.

“I’m here for them”

“Then you have the ransom?” she asked with a raised brow

“Yeah, I'll just be giving it to you in steel rather than gold,” he said, working hard to keep his voice calm as he drew his blade. He didn’t deploy the shield; he'd need the element of surprise if he wanted any chance of surviving this.

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Raven was worried, she’d heard about the arc family, hell she’d gone to school with the boy's father. There was a good reason why the area around the arc ancestral lands was so safe. Everyone who crossed the family died, or worse.

And his mother was definitely worse. A tribal just like her she’d fought Arc to prove a point, now thirty years later she was still a breeding sow for the family. Her warrior stock probably only made them more powerful. And now here he was ready to take her daughter and the Schnee.

If she had it her way she’d just give the boy both and be done with it. They weren’t worth her head. But that wasn’t an option. No, instead she’ll just have to offer something better than the satisfaction of her death.

“Very well boy, I'll take your steel. And if you manage to beat me I’ll even give you my body as well”

She only prayed that the Arc would accept it

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Jaune wasn’t sure what to do, frankly, he wanted nothing to do with a woman who abandoned her daughter but if he didn’t take the deal then he’d likely be jumped by her entire tribe, who had begun forming a circle around the last patch of dry grass that hadn’t been turned to mud from them walking through it.

“Fine,” he said, annoyance in his voice, he just wanted Yang and Weiss back home with the team where they belonged now he’d have to deal with this too.

He took his place across from her, taking his sword in a two-handed grip that his father had tried teaching him when he was a boy. It was Pyrrha who taught him how to fight with a shield. Who taught him to protect others but jaune wasn’t looking to protect here. Only to slay.

There was no signal, Raven just rushed him. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to react to the speed. But months with Nora had taught him to use her peripheral vision. The added context to the attack that was about to hit him prevented panic and allowed him to dodge the blow as an ear-splitting screech tore through the air as dust-enhanced steel met angled armor. It was only sheer luck that let his pommel slam into her chin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The boy was strong, Raven had a habit of toying with those weaker than her but for strong opponents, she tried to end it in a single strike. Using her aura to launch herself like a rocket at her enemy then causing another boost of aura to swing her blade fast enough to make a sonic boom like a bullet.

Not only had this jaune blocked it, but in the same fluid motion, he’d counterattacked. And now he was coming at her.

Gods’ why didn’t she just give him the girls?!

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Jaune stumbled forward catching himself just in time to almost run but not quite. Still, he was out of time bracing his shoulder he jumped forward slamming into her gut just as her sword would have split his head.

He’d told ruby he needed a helmet!

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Raven was knocked on her ass and fear began to take hold, she couldn’t die here, this boy, this man was too strong and

NO!

She would defeat him, rolling to her feet she charged as much aura as she could into her blade and swung down, she’d be exhausted but the monster would be dead. Off to the side, she noticed that her daughter had freed herself and the Schnee. That would be a problem but it was too late for her to save her little boy toy.

Just as her daughter screamed the world went white

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune felt more aura coursing through him than ever before. And down there in front of him, on her back trying to crawl away in fear was raven.

“I give up!” she screamed as jaune lifted his sword, “please just take them and go!”

Jaune glared at the woman “I’d love nothing more than to leave your weak tribe and be fucking done with this” he said honestly. The longer he stayed here the more likely it was these guys would jump him. And even if he got lucky with raven he doubted he could take all of them “but unfortunately I made you a promise”

With that, he began to unarmor himself. Taking a step toward the retreating woman with each thunk of the heavy armor falling away until as he stripped his pants and showed off his cock to the world he once more sighed pulling raven back by her legs to him. He hoped yang and Weiss weren’t watching, he was pretty average and didn’t have much to show off. Then again, he didn’t have much to compare him with.

All the guys at beacon refused to shower with him in the locker room

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OF COURSE THE BOY WAS A MONSTER, HE WAS A FUCKING ARC!

He was carrying around a foot of cock and it was surely gonna ruin her. But as Raven tried to crawl away, her own aura utterly depleted she felt him drag her back in front of him by her ankle. Her hands pulling up tufts of grass in vane as she tried to avoid her fate

“Just hurry the fuck up and strip raven, I have better shit to do!” came the annoyed voice of the monster behind her

What?

She froze and jaune growled in frustration ripping her clothes apart and lining himself up with her snatch

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She was tight, that was about all Jaune could say on the subject as Raven squirmed and struggled underneath him. He really wasn’t enjoying this. She was too shallow, too unused to him and SHE KEPT FUCKING CRAWLING AWAY!

Like, he got it, it was probably annoying to have to deal with him shoving himself into her, but damn it this wasn’t his fucking idea. And an Arc always keeps their word, so here he was trying to hold this whining bitch down so he could finish up and be done the entire fucking thing.

Finally getting tired of her bullshit jaune wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her back into him. She screamed louder as he hammered into her, probably pissed that he was touching her hair like yang would be. Damn it he was starting to lose his boner! Think about Ruby Jaune! Think about that big, bubbly, Rubooty!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raven was going to die, she was sure of it, his massive cock was sticking out of her stomach and she could feel her body struggling to accommodate him as he shoved that fucking pillar deep into her. Having already gone as far as her womb.

Then he told her he was halfway in! The fuking idiot didn’t seem to get that there was NO MORE FUCKING ROOM FOR HIM.

She screamed as her body was flooded with pleasure as he pulled her hair. Bringing her back into him as he fucked her like a common whore. Her daughter was watching with her friend and… oh gods he just got bigger!

He must have seen Yang masterbating to this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He smacked Raven’s ass, disappointed it didn’t jiggle like Ruby’s when she ran, and struggled to maintain the fantasy. With a grunt, he pushed in deeper and held her there as his first orgasm finally came.

Thank the Gods’

Only two more holes to go.

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Raven thought it was over when she felt herself fill with cum, groaning in relief as jaune pulled out of her now leaking cunt. Ruined for all the world to see. But then she felt herself being pulled up by her hair. And suddenly she was being throat fucked, her vision filled by a sneering Jaune.

She felt herself cum again as he used her

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It was official, raven sucked at this. It was a fucking blow job! How hard could it be? Nora had given him plenty when she was bored on the road and Ren couldn’t keep up with her anymore. Let alone when he imagined Ruby to be able to do it. No, that wasn’t fair. Maybe she was just out of practice. After all, it's not like many guys around here would give her the time of day.

Okay Jaune just lay close your eyes and imagine Ruby, you can do this

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He was thinking about someone else, Raven was sure of it now, the way he kept his eyes closed. The way he tried to force her deeper. Was it Yang? Was that why he was here to save her? She didn’t know she didn’t care. Right now that massive dick was being used for her, it was hers!

Her nose filled with his scent, her tongue slipping out from her mouth to lap at his balls. Oh gods what a man. To take her so utterly. To ruin her and have her be just another of his conquests. She wept with joy as she felt him cum down her throat.

She couldn’t give this up

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Jaune stared down at the clearly delirious Raven, he was a little worried that he’d gone too far as he had forgotten to let her breathe. Normally he’d just wait for the tap on his thigh but she obviously didn’t know about that.

Oh well, just anal left and he could head home with yang and Weiss. He hoped they weren’t too bored.

“Turn around slut,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. He’d heard girls like that, and he was willing to try with Raven since it didn’t really matter if she didn’t like it. Not like he was ever gonna see her again

He was pleasantly surprised to find he was right as he watched Raven squeal in glee before she put herself face down into the grass. Huh… good to know, maybe Ruby would like it if he used his leader’s voice?

Lining up with the older woman’s ass Jaune decided it was about time to wrap this up so he wasn’t gonna go with the slow and steady pace he had before

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Raven’s world was one of sensations alone as she felt her master slam his cock into her ass. Her eyes swam with colors and her body twitched as she felt orgasm after orgasm. Pain and pleasure mixing in a delirious cocktail that her brain drowned in. and her hands, no longer being used to hold her up, Rubbed along the imprint his cock made in her. Trying to give him the same pleasure she felt

Every breath was praise for him.

This was heaven.

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Raven was annoying as hell.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouILOVEYOU!”

“Please just shut the fuck up Raven!” Jaune screamed back as he tried to finish himself off. Groaning in relief as he felt another set of mouths on his balls. Turning around he saw Yang and Weiss doing their best to help him through this chore. They were great friends and jaune owed them for this.

What they lacked in skill they made up for in enthusiasm. And Jaune soon found himself about to cum slamming home in the bandit queen jaune moaned in relief as he flooded raven’s body with his seed. Slowly pulling the still hard cock out of the twitching mess of a woman and letting Yang and Weiss try to clean him up.

Oh yeah, he owed these two a lot. Though he did come to save them in the first place. But that was only to help his friends so yeah, he’d still owe them.

Nodding in agreement with his train of logic, he said out loud “welp time to go home” to his surprise the Raven opened a portal to …. Qrow?

OH HEY, THERE WAS RUBY!

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Ruby was a very happy girl, her sister was safe, as was her bestie Weiss. And Raven had even learned the error of her ways. Yeah, today was great.

It was also great because she was slamming her nice thicc ass back on Jaune’s dick like nature intended. Honestly, what was Raven thinking trying to take a dick this amazing with an ass like that? At least Yang had the common sense to use her tits to get jaune off. And Weiss…. Weiss was willing to help however she could.

So that’s why she let her sister and friend join in on her fun with her boyfriend.

Slamming her ass down on his dick faster, Ruby relished the attention that was on her as Raven whimpered in the corner.

Yeah, Yang and Weiss got to help, but Raven had to study hard if she wanted to be a good slut. That’s why she was being forced to watch her and Jaune go at it for hours on end.

It totally wasn’t because ruby liked putting the snobby bitch in her place. Ruby would never do that.

Moaning in pure pleasure as she arched her back and Jaune came inside her. Ruby smiled before resuming her work with a kiss from Jaune.

And they all lived happily ever after

#rwby #smut #questionable consent #jaune just wants to go home #ruby is a happy girl #you are not immue to hot dorky blonde

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 4 years ago

Text

tangle up the true and the fable

A/N: empires!scott and empires!jimmy have hella enemies to lovers vibes. so take enemies to hey-wait-were-we-lovers-in-a-past-life to friends. also joel and lizzie make a cameo appearance. title is from Rose by The Oh Hellos! (also reblogs > likes)

Warnings: arguing, death mention, flirting, cave-ins, cave spiders, injury, vague description of cave spider venom effects, nonchalant talk of the minecraft respawn mechanic, near death experiences, explosions, talk of past/alternate lives, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending

Summary: Jimmy doesn't understand why the ruler of Rivendell doesn't seem to like him. He supposes that going on a mining trip in Scott's mountains without asking permission doesn't exactly help matters much though. But when the two of them end up trapped in the caves, will they be able to set aside their differences to survive?

Jimmy should really start thinking before he did things. Like stealing- ahem. Borrowing some cake ingredients from Sausage, which in turn caused him to steal Jimmy's prized music disc. Or whatever was the deal with the Rivendell ruler, Scott. Jimmy wasn't sure what exactly he did to get on the elf's bad side, but Scott didn't seem to like him very much. Well... at least sometimes he seemed to hate Jimmy. Sometimes it seemed like... something else. Jimmy couldn't quite place it- maybe he did want to be best friends after all? But whatever the case, things were always a little tense between the rulers of the Cod Empire and Rivendell. And it seemed today was no exception.

He was in dire need of more materials, and the swamp wasn't very rich in caves. And Jimmy had already explored most of the caves in his empire. So while he couldn't entirely rationalize why, he decided to go on a trip to the mountains to gather materials. It was a stupid idea, going near the empire of someone who possibly hated him, but part of him hoped that he would see Scott. Maybe he could work out some sort of alliance instead of their squabbling and occasional attempts to kill each other. Besides, he wasn't going to the actual mountain Scott lived on, just the ones near his mountain. Surely that’d be far enough to not anger him, but close enough to suggest an amicable atmosphere? Right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Jimmy had barely gotten deep in a cave in the mountains when Scott appeared, like he had some sort of “Jimmy-being-an-idiot” sixth sense. The elf admittedly was an imposing sight- enchanted diamond armor, an enchanted diamond axe strapped to his back, arms crossed over his chest, a golden circlet with antlers branching up from it, and blue eyes glinting with irritation. Those eyes seemed to see right through Jimmy, scrutinizing and seeing him for who he truly was. Not the Codfather, a strong leader- but a swamp boy whose sweet intentions got him into trouble more often than not.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked, voice cold and unimpressed. Jimmy frowned at the elf’s tone.

“Mining,” Jimmy said simply, crossing his arms right back at Scott. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Obviously, but why are you doing so in my empire?” Scott asked pointedly.

“I’m not mining in your mountain though!” Jimmy protested, a little confused at Scott’s irritation. Scott let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a groan, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache coming on.

“Jimmy. All the mountains around here are mine,” Scott said bluntly, dropping his hand to glare at Jimmy. Well now he felt a little sheepish. But still, he didn’t understand why Scott had to get all irritated about it, maybe they could work something out. Jimmy took on an easygoing smile, causing Scott to knit his brows in confusion.

“I know I shouldn’t have been here, and I didn’t realize this mountain was part of your empire. If you want the materials I gathered, I’m more than willing to-”

“Oh, sorry about that, buddy! Tell you what, I’ll give you-”

“I’m not your buddy,” Scott said, cutting Jimmy off and causing his easy smile to melt away near instantly. Jimmy sighed.

“I don’t want anything from you, I just want you to leave,” Scott said, interrupting Jimmy again, and honestly it was getting pretty hard for Jimmy to continue being amicable if Scott was going to be like this for the whole conversation.

“Fine! I was only trying to come to a peaceful resolution here, no need to be a jerk like always,” Jimmy huffed, slinging his pickaxe over his shoulder and starting to head out of the cave. Scott made an irritated sound, quickly following after him.

“Oh, I’m sorry for being mean when you’re the one who showed up in my empire unannounced and unwanted!” Scott fumed, hands gesturing wildly as he kept up with Jimmy’s brisk pace.

“Like I said, didn’t realize this was part of your empire. And I’m leaving now, so you can stop following me,” Jimmy huffed. Scott stopped to stare at him incredulously, and Jimmy paused as well to raise an eyebrow at him.

“This cave only has one exit, you idiot. We both have to go this way,” Scott pointed out with a scoff. Jimmy made a frustrated sound, and was about to make a retort- but heard a hiss and saw a green shape ambling towards them from an unlit portion of the cave. Jimmy didn’t have time to draw his sword, and Scott was too busy glaring at Jimmy to notice the creeper heading towards them. So in a split-second decision, Jimmy tackled Scott to the ground right before the creeper exploded and caused a chunk of the cave to crumble down right where the two of them had been standing. Debris showered over the two of them, and Jimmy instinctively shielded Scott from it, even though he had been shouting at the elf mere moments prior. The dust settled, and it was then he realized how close he and Scott were, their noses practically touching.

“You alright?” Jimmy asked, surprising himself with how soft and concerned his voice came out. Scott looked at him with wide eyes and an almost flustered expression, until he schooled it down into smooth indifference.

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner before you pin me like that,” Scott teased with a smirk. Jimmy rolled his eyes, getting up off of Scott before offering a hand to help him up.

“I think you’re supposed to thank me for saving your life,” Jimmy shot back. Scott scowled at him, ignoring the offered hand and getting to his feet on his own, brushing the dirt off of his clothes.

“Thank you for what? Tackling me and giving me a near concussion? Or the fact that we’re now both stuck here?” Scott asked, gesturing at the cave-in. Following the direction of Scott’s hand, Jimmy looked to the cave opening. Or rather, the lack of a cave opening. The creeper explosion must have hit some loose gravel in the ceiling, because the weak rock had given way to a whole mess of stone to fall and block off their only exit.

“Maybe we could dig through it?” Jimmy wondered. Scott rolled his eyes.

“With your luck, that would only make it worse. Besides I didn’t bring a pickaxe, and I don’t think you could dig that out by yourself. We’re just gonna have to turn around and hope there’s another way out,” Scott said, turning and heading deeper in the cave. Jimmy scrambled after him in protest.

“Or we could stay here and call for help! I’m sure one of my allies would be willing to help me, or maybe you’ve got a closer ally who’d be willing to dig us out-”

“No. We’re better off trying to find our own way out. Besides, I don’t have allies- having alliances means having enemies too, and I’d much rather stay above the conflict if you don’t mind,” Scott said, stubbornly continuing forward. Jimmy groaned, reluctantly following after Scott.

“Fine, have it your way. But you let me know when you change your mind,” Jimmy said, not having the energy to argue with Scott’s weird animosity towards alliances. So instead, he followed his not-really-enemy but not-really-friend either deeper into the darkness, torchlight their only savior.

Going deeper into the cave was not providing them with a way out. They did, however, come across a mineshaft- which was a small but still not great shimmering light of hope. It was possible the mineshaft could be connected to another cave that could lead them out, so braving the mineshaft it was. Besides, there could be good loot to be had- even if Scott claimed most of it since it was, technically, part of his empire. And that was fine with Jimmy, he was trying to offer what he had found to Scott earlier anway. However, there was one problem with mineshafts, and that was the tendency of cave spiders making their nests in them. And it figures with Jimmy’s rotten luck that they would come across one of those nests. And even worse, Jimmy managed to get a hand caught in one of the webs at the edge of it.

“Stop struggling, you’re just gonna alert them that we’re here!” Scott hissed, trying to cut away at the cobwebs ensnaring Jimmy’s hand.

“If you cut at it any slower, they’re just gonna see us anyway!” Jimmy whisper-shouted back, but kept his hand still as Scott asked anyhow. But of course, as if things couldn’t get any worse, one of the cave spiders had noticed them. It jumped at Jimmy, but Scott moved in front of him just in time to intercept it instead, and struggled only for a moment before he managed to kill it. Scott was hunched over for a moment, trying to catch his breath- and despite his warnings not to, Jimmy yanked his hand free from the cobwebs to rush to his side, seeing the glittering red eyes in the distance. He opened his mouth to ask if Scott was alright, but he abruptly stood upright and pushed Jimmy towards a corridor of the mineshaft that was not infested with cave spiders.

“Go, we gotta get out of here!” he cried, running and pulling Jimmy along with him. Jimmy didn’t argue, keeping pace with Scott and cutting down a few cave spiders that got too close. They ran and turned down corridor after corridor, until they were sure that the spiders had lost interest. They stopped for a moment to catch their breath, and Jimmy eyed Scott with concern. He was holding his shoulder and looked rather pale- well, paler than usual.

“Scott?” Jimmy asked, voice gentle. Scott squeezed his eyes shut, like Jimmy had spoken too loudly, and took a beat longer to respond than Jimmy would have liked.

“I’m fine,” Scott said, not very convincingly at all. Jimmy frowned, stepping forward and reaching for the hand Scott had clasped tightly over his own shoulder. Jimmy instantly knew something was wrong when Scott didn’t push him away and let him remove his hand. Scott’s hand came away slick with blood, and Jimmy hissed in sympathy at the sickly green state of the wound. Cave spider bite, right in the gap of Scott’s armor. And it seemed the venom was working pretty fast through his system. Suddenly, as if taking his hand off of his shoulder had sapped all his energy, Scott’s knees gave out and he collapsed into Jimmy. With a startled gasp, Jimmy managed to catch Scott, wrapping his free arm around his waist and trying to keep him somewhat upright. His hand still clutched Scott’s, and his hand had shifted to clutch Jimmy’s back just as tightly. His head drooped down to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, the antlers of his circlet poking him slightly, and a cold spike of fear shot through Jimmy at how feverish Scott’s forehead felt against his neck. Scott had only just been bitten. If he was in such bad shape already… Jimmy didn’t want to think about it.

“You’re hot,” Jimmy blurted, a little horrified. Scott let out a borderline delirious chuckle.

“Took you long enough to notice,” Scott teased, voice weak with pain. Jimmy let out a startled laugh.

“Scott, quit flirting for one minute, you’re dying,” Jimmy reprimanded, a little shocked at how wobbly his own voice sounded.

“I’ll just respawn, it’s not the end of the world. Nice to know you care though,” Scott said tiredly, although Jimmy could hear the slight smile in his voice. Jimmy froze a bit at his words. Yeah… that was right, Scott would just respawn. He’d lose his stuff and his enchantment levels, but he’d wake up in bed, right as rain. So why was Jimmy so worried for a moment? Why did Scott dying in his arms suddenly feel like the end of the world? And most baffling of all, why did the thought of losing someone who was at most an acquaintance rattle him so much? Yet here he was, clinging to Scott like he would disappear forever.

“I… of course I care! You’re the one who’s pushing me away, not the other way around,” Jimmy said, deciding not to address the fact that he had somehow forgotten about respawning being a thing. Scott laughed humorlessly, and him not having any sort of witty response was extremely telling of how worse off Scott was doing. He had been leaning into Jimmy more and more throughout the weak banter, and Jimmy finally knelt down and shifted Scott to be comfortably resting in his lap, his head still leaning on his shoulder, but turned so that Jimmy could see him.

“Your face makes for a pretty last thing to see before I die,” Scott said softly, and Jimmy blinked in surprise, unsure of how to take that.

“Didn’t realize a side effect of cave spider venom was delirium,” Jimmy settled on, causing Scott to let out a pained wheeze of a laugh.

“Think the side effect is actually brutal honesty,” Scott said, sounding a little wistful. Okay, well Jimmy really didn’t know how to respond to that. Scott, dying in his arms and looking at him all soft and adoring like Jimmy was a- a lover or something. So maybe it was that gentle look in Scott’s eyes even as he was dying, or Jimmy not wanting to deal with the blood of a fellow ruler on his hands, or just not wanting to watch someone die in general that caused him to shift and reach for something in his bag he had found in their journey through the mineshaft. He held out a golden apple to Scott, who looked at it with confusion.

“Nabbed it from a chest when you weren’t looking. I know you’ll just respawn, but cave spider venom is a pretty terrible way to go,” Jimmy said, smiling softly. Scott just blinked, not moving to take the apple.

“Jimmy-”

“Shut up and take the apple, Scott,” Jimmy insisted, for once cutting Scott off instead of the other way around. Scott sighed, and with a shaking hand, he grabbed the apple and took a bite. Almost immediately, color came back to Scott’s face and the green started to recede from the shoulder wound. A few more bites, and the bleeding stopped, the wound started closing up, and Scott was no longer leaning on Jimmy so heavily. He did, however, seem perfectly content to stay in Jimmy’s arms. Jimmy couldn’t really find it in himself to detach himself from Scott either.

“Thanks,” Scott said softly, like he was afraid to say it, after he had finished the apple. Jimmy chuckled.

“I should be thanking you, you’re the one who threw yourself between me and that cave spider,” Jimmy said, immensely glad that he remembered finding the golden apple before it was too late. Otherwise Scott, who usually didn’t seem to like him, would have died because of Jimmy.

“You saved me from the creeper earlier, I was just repaying the favor. Of course now I owe you again, because you healed me,” Scott said with a mock irritated tone, grinning all the while. Jimmy unceremoniously dumped him on the cave floor for that, ignoring his startled shout of protest to instead stand up.

“Well, maybe you could repay me by finally letting me contact one of my allies to help us,” Jimmy replied with a grin of his own. Scott pouted a little, still grumpy about being forcibly moved off of Jimmy’s lap.

“That was rude, I’m still recovering! Jerk,” Scott huffed, but there was no true anger in his tone. Jimmy shook his head fondly, offering a hand to Scott. He took it, and only stumbled a little bit as he got back to his feet. Fortunately Jimmy was there to steady him, ignoring the “I-told-you-so” look Scott gave him.

“You’ll live, thanks to me. Now can I message for help so that we can get out of here?” Jimmy asked. Scott let out a dramatic sigh.

“I guess so. Give them the coordinates for the cave entrance, we can head back in that direction and meet them halfway,” Scott said. Jimmy nodded, getting out his communicator to send a message to Joel.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna stay in this mineshaft any longer than we have to,” Jimmy said as he typed. Scott hovered over his shoulder, correcting Jimmy on the coordinate numbers before he sent the message off to Joel. Luckily, Joel wasn’t busy and responded fairly quickly, saying that he was on his way.

“Ready to get out of here?” Scott asked, once Jimmy had read Joel’s message to him.

“Absolutely,” Jimmy said, pocketing his communicator and walking side by side with Scott.

They reached the cave-in before Joel had arrived, but they didn’t have to wait too long before they heard Joel calling out for them. It seemed Lizzie had come along as well, as Jimmy could hear her voice along with Joel’s. He was a little surprised to hear her, as Jimmy wasn’t officially allied with Lizzie, but he supposed it made sense. Lizzie was married to Joel, and Lizzie’s empire was connected to Jimmy’s by water.

“We’re here!” Jimmy called back.

“Oh good, you didn’t kill each other,” Joel called back, a smile in his voice. Jimmy rolled his eyes, even if Joel couldn’t see him.

“I’ll have you know I saved Scott twice in these caves,” Jimmy shot back with a grin. Scott groaned in annoyance.

“You’re gonna hold this over my head, aren’t you,” Scott grumbled.

“Only a little bit,” Jimmy replied, relieved when Scott wasn’t actually all that annoyed, due to the chuckle he got in response.

“Stand back boys, I’ve got TNT!” Lizzie exclaimed, breaking the moment of banter. Scott and Jimmy exchanged wide-eyed glances, scrambling away from the rubble.

“Uh… you do know that explosions are what got us into this mess in the first place, right?” Scott asked nervously.

“It’ll be faster than trying to dig you out,” Joel replied, before the click of a flint and steel was heard.

“Does it alarm you at all that they have TNT already?” Scott whispered.

“They’re my allies. Or at least Joel is. Not sure why Lizzie came along, actually,” Jimmy replied with a shrug. Before Scott could reply, the TNT went off, destroying the rubble and revealing Joel and Lizzie on the other side.

“When I heard Joel was off to rescue the sweet swamp boy, I had to come along!” Lizzie said with a grin, poking her head through the hole in the rubble. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment at the nickname, while Scott was poorly hiding his laugh behind a cough.

“She was with me when I got your message, I figured the extra help couldn’t hurt,” Joel explained.

“Well thank you, both of you. We really appreciate it,” Jimmy said, climbing out of the hole in the rubble with Lizzie’s help.

“You’re welcome! Although it sounds like you had the rescuing Scott part handled,” she teased with a wink.

“Hey! The only reason he saved me the second time was because I got bit by a cave spider that was coming for him. So I did some saving too,” Scott protested as he followed Jimmy out. Joel looked to Scott with concern.

“Do you need any health potions? I brought some just in case,” Joel offered, starting to dig through his pack.

“Nah, Jimmy gave me a golden apple that he stole from me,” Scott said, nudging Jimmy playfully. Jimmy laughed, pushing at him back.

“I didn’t steal it, I just took it from a minecart chest before you noticed it,” Jimmy retorted.

“A minecart chest that was in my empire,” Scott shot back with a grin. Jimmy was going to snap back, but Lizzie came to stand in between them.

“How about we leave before any more near death situations happen,” she suggested. Both Jimmy and Scott smiled sheepishly, before following Lizzie and Joel out of the cave.

The four of them had made it back to Scott’s home, with plenty of daylight to spare for the long journey Jimmy, Lizzie, and Joel had ahead of them to their own empires. Jimmy had told Joel and Lizzie to go on, saying that he would catch up with them in a bit. He wanted to talk to Scott first. About what, he wasn’t entirely certain, but he felt like he couldn’t just up and leave right away without saying something, not after everything that had happened. But for the moment, the two of them were stood in the entryway of Scott’s house a little awkwardly. Scott’s home was bigger than the last time Jimmy had seen it, but part of him was touched to see that he still had the pufferfish- rather the pufferish- mounted above his door. Jimmy wasn’t exactly sure why he had given Scott a misspelled token of peace, but it had just felt… right.

“So… have you changed your mind on alliances at all?” Jimmy asked, settling on teasing Scott a bit instead of tackling any sort of emotional conversation right away. Scott let out a mildly bitter laugh.

“I… will admit that there are advantages to having alliances. And you, Lizzie, and Joel seem alright. I just… well, if I’m being totally honest, I’m not really opposed to alliances… it’s just- it’s like there’s this part of me, maybe something from a past life, that knows that getting tangled up in alliances can lead to war and loss,” Scott said, heartbreak lacing his words. Jimmy frowned in sympathy. He didn’t know what Scott had been through before starting an empire, but it sounded like it was nothing fun. He put a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder- and was instantly greeted with a flurry of images both familiar and unfamiliar. A flower forest. Homes carved into hills. Decaying skin and burnt banners. Flowers nestled in teal hair. Being helpless to watch as a loved one- a husband?- was shot down. Darkness, then light again. Then a feeling of home, and a joyful reunion.

Jimmy jerked back from Scott like had been burned. The real world filtered back into view with Scott wide-eyed and surprised as Jimmy was. What- what was that? They felt like memories, or maybe a dream. And the person with teal hair, the husband?! That was undeniably Scott, just far less regal and with rounded ears, not pointed ones. Jimmy wasn’t sure what that was, but suddenly the fear of losing Scott in the mineshaft made a startling amount of sense.

“Did you… see that?” Jimmy asked. Maybe he was hallucinating, did he get bit by a cave spider too? Maybe this was all some weird fever dream.

“I- yeah. I was kind of kidding about the past life thing… but was that even us? Or just… I dunno, a version of us from an alternate reality?” Scott pondered, looking like his brain was going a mile a minute. Jimmy found himself looking at the pufferish of peace. Was that something significant in that… other life? Or was that truly something of his own volition?

“Must be some sort of alternate reality, I think we were married,” Jimmy said with a laugh. Scott laughed as well, shaking his head.

“Yeah, can you imagine? Why would I marry some swamp boy?” Scott teased.

“And why would I marry a stuffy elf ruler?” Jimmy teased right back. The two of them laughed, but there was regret and maybe a smidge of longing tinged in both of their voices.

“I think I could at least stand being allied with some swamp boy,” Scott said softly, after a moment of silence. Jimmy smiled.

“Allies it is then,” Jimmy said, holding out his hand. Scott gingerly took it, and when there weren't any flashes of alternate or past lives, he shook it firmly.

“Allies,” Scott said, squeezing Jimmy’s hand before letting go. Jimmy bid him goodbye, exiting his home to meet up with Lizzie and Joel. And maybe, just maybe, Jimmy allowed himself to treasure the little flutter his heart made when Scott had squeezed his hand. He was sure his past- or alternate, who knows- self would appreciate it.

MCYT Tag List (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #smallishbeans #ldshadowlady #mcyt #angst #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #sage writes

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ficforce · 4 years ago

Text

Making Friends

Benimaru x Pregnant Reader SFW

“Oi!” Benimaru shoved the papers he had been holding onto one of the builder’s he was speaking with and rushed to Y/N’s side, “What have told you about carrying stuff…” He took the box from her, further annoyed that it weighed more than a feather, and took it to the corner with everything else. The boxes were care packages for people who had just been made temporarily homeless, they could come an collect them but Y/N was just trying to help out as much as she could – she was going mad just sitting around waiting. Arthur and Hinawa walked into the Guardhouse and the blonde pointed at Y/N whilst turning his head to his Lieutenant, “He’s not got bad aim, he’s just protecting his Queen.” The young man was oblivious to the glare he received from Hinawa even as he pushed Arthur’s pointing finger down. It was obvious to Arthur, even in his skewered perception of reality, that Captain Shinmon, standing so close to the woman and with his hand laid protectively over her large stomach, was so mean because he was protecting his family. They had broken into his castle just before an Infernal appeared and he was aggressive because of his Queen’s condition. Y/N looked at Arthur with a tilt of her head and placed her hand on the middle of Benimaru’s back as she felt his body temperature rise, “He really does have bad aim.” “Y/N!”

“He called me a Queen, Beni, I can’t get mad at that.” Although it was an odd thing to say and Arthur seemed to exude stupidity, Y/N couldn’t help but be flattered. He could have called her a scullery maid or a witch if he’d wanted to. “You should be resting,” he murmured to her and gently nudged her back toward their room, Benimaru paused and turned sharply on his heel, his red eyes lit as he saw Arthur with his plasma sword out, the blue flame making the air crackle around it. The Captain shielded Y/N behind him, “The hell…!” Hinawa let out a sigh and walked out of the Guardhouse, he wasn’t staying for this, he could only take so much before the urge to shoot someone was too strong. He wasn’t there as Arthur got down on one knee and pledged to protect the ‘Fair Queen and the Heir to the Castle’, he also wasn’t there to see Benimaru be lead away like a confused, aggressive pup. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried about the pledge. Once they reached their room Y/N was giggling into his shoulder, he really didn’t know how to react to Arthur and he supposed as long as he kept the oddball away from her then all would be fine. “Did you see the guy with glasses? He looked like he was gonna murder the poor kid!” Benimaru ruffled his hair and let out a frustrated click of his tongue, “Beni, lighten up a little – they seem nice.” The last few months he had been more protective than usual, she figured he was anxious for the birth of their child and felt helpless that he couldn’t do more. He wouldn’t let her lift or carry, he didn’t like her going far from home and never alone, every ache she had he would worry over and there were times he downright wouldn’t let anyone within arm’s reach. The twins were careful around her, they were boisterous but they knew she was due any day now. Konro was taking her out of the house to give her a little space as he was the only person Benimaru seemed to trust entirely with her. It would have been sweet if she wasn’t anxious too… “Beni,” Y/N took his hands and place them palm down on her belly, it was almost an instantaneous reaction of their baby to press a foot against the light pressure of his hands, they had a theory that they were reacting to the Captain’s unique heat signature, “Baby is fine. I’m fine.” Her hands cupped his face whilst he remained distracted by the bump, “I’m really nervous too and I need distractions or else I’m going to go mad – Now, calm down and help out with the building works whilst I help Konro out.” “I’ll do it,” Benimaru mumbled and a second later he looked up at her annoyed expression, “Not because I don’t want you to but I need to talk to him.” His thumbs stroked over her and he smiled when he felt movement under his hands, “Why don’t you help out with ordering materials? You’re good at admin and we’ll need to order more stuff after today.” Pressing a kiss on her forehead they both headed out. — - “When are you due?” Maki asked excitedly as she approached the little table and chair set up for Y/N to work at, Tamaki peeked from around the older woman and looked just as excited by the prospect of babies. Y/N smiled at them both and placed her pen down, “Any day now.” “Really?!” Tamaki covered her mouth and spoke a little quieter this time around, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” “No idea. Benimaru is hoping for a girl and I kinda want a boy – as long as they’re healthy, right?” Maki nodded, “Are you excited?” She nodded her head as she unconsciously stroked her stomach, “I’m kinda scared too.” The women from the 8th were nice and Y/N fell into conversation with them easily, Maki got all gooey over her story about finding out she was pregnant and Tamaki had that fascination in her eyes that young girls had when love and babies came up. After half an hour Konro and Benimaru came back from checking out the damage from Block three, Benimaru’s direction began to alter toward the three women but he was cut up by Hinata and Hikage rushing past him to grab onto both his and Konro’s pants to drag them toward a different problem in Town.

Y/N hid her smile and silently thanked the twins for saving her from interruption. Benimaru sighed loudly, he could see that Y/N was enjoying the attention and he didn’t sense any malice from Maki or Tamaki, he supposed he could let them be for now. — - Y/N let out a terrified cry as she saw the scaffolding fail and begin to buckle and collapse, the heavy bamboo rods hurtled down toward her and she couldn’t move fast enough to avoid them, instead she crouched low and wrapped her arms around herself – her only concern was to protect her unborn child. There was a loud crash all around her and dust was kicked up from the street, after a moment of feeling nothing Y/N took a deep breath and raised her head. “You okay?” Obi’s arms shook a little as he gathered the strength to throw the scaffolding he had caught to the side, builders came rushing over to help clear the debris and two of them helped Y/N to her feet, “Get her home, I’ll help out here.” “Y/N!” “Y/N!!” The twins ran toward the woman and Hinata began crying as she hung off of Y/N, they had witnessed the accident and had been scared for her, “Is the baby okay?! Y/N, are you hurt?!” Big, watery, amber eyes looked up at her but Y/N was still too shocked to reply. Shinra seemed to come out of nowhere and coax the girls away from her, promising to give them candy and play. He seemed to be good with children and was able to tell them that it was important that Y/N get checked over - they were reluctant but let her go. When she got inside, Benimaru was halfway out the door after hearing what had happened and as soon as he saw her he wrapped his arms around her tightly, “Y/N…” He could feel her shaking in his hold so he put his arm around her waist and held her hand in his free hand, “Konro, call the doctor.” “No,” Y/N murmured and reached out to catch the Lieutenant’s arm, “I’m fine, really. I was just… it surprised me. I… I was… 8th Captain was there so -I…” Her voice became weaker and weaker before cracking, Y/N’s throat seemed to close up and tears began to slip down her cheeks. Benimaru took her to their room and helped her down onto the futon, pulling her close he began to run his fingers soothingly over her scalp to calm her. She wasn’t usually one to cry easily but the hormones during her pregnancy had her emotional over every little thing. Konro came in with a glass of water and handed it to her, he wiped her tears away and gave Benimaru a look to say he’d deal with the trouble outside. His eyes closed and he let out a deep breath, he was full of tension and just as shaken to hear what had happened, he shouldn’t have left her out there alone, Benimaru knew that agonising over it wouldn’t help her calm down and continued trying to force himself to relax - she had always been good at picking up his moods and his fear would only feed hers. “Nearly fucking died when I heard…” “Don’t s-swear in front of the baby!” Her voice was still small but he felt her pinch his arm when she warned him about his language. Benimaru stayed with her for a long while until she fell asleep, it had been a shock to her system and he knew she was tired already so Benimaru made sure she was well and truly out before moving to the next room to help Konro with his treatment. He had been about to start before he got the news about the accident… he hated to admit it but he was thankful Company 8 had come. — - It was pretty impressive how Benimaru was able to stand after taking out a demon only a few hours before. “Going back to Company 8? Thanks for all your help.” Obi and his team turned to face the other, they had been going to leave quietly to let everyone get on with repairs and healing, “That’s all right… It’s possible we started all this by coming here.” “Maybe so, but we still had the Evangelist’s cronies lurking in our streets. It could be they’re the ones who were causing all the ‘spontaneous’ human combustion we’ve been dealing with,” Benimaru seemed calm on the outside but there was a sort of excitement buzzing around him that was putting Company 8 at unease, “And

now we’ve managed to stop it. Konro, bring it here.” Konro nodded and left his side quickly. The Captain of the 8th shifted onto his other foot, worried he was about to end up in another fight with the other - He still hurt from the night before. “Bring what?” “I don’t like the Empire’s Fire Force toadies but I like Company 8.” Konro returned with the bottle of Sake and the Captains exchanged sake cups to mark their new friendship, a few seconds later Benimaru’s face lit up in a smile and his Lieutenant explained the situation with Benimaru’s smile and sake. There was a commotion at the Guardhouse door as the Townspeople began to gather, they had come because they had heard the news and all of a sudden Arthur pulled out his plasma sword. Anyone near him jerked back but the blonde didn’t care as he swore his allegiance to Asakusa’s Queen and the new heir. At first, the rest of his Company were confused and Shinra moved to hit him in the head for scaring everyone but then he realised that Y/N had come in whilst they had been talking - a tiny baby bundled in her arms. “It’s good to know a Knight is looking out for her,” an excited squeal escaped Maki and she began to bounce excitedly with Tamaki. Y/N grinned at them proudly and let Benimaru take his daughter, the baby fit him perfectly, cradled in his arm like she belonged there and Y/N saw his smile become gentler and more genuine. During the night she had gone into labour, it had been frightening to not have her family there but the midwife had looked after her, there had been several Hikeshi who stood outside the room to ensure she was safe from the fighting and confusion. Benimaru had made it for the last ten minutes of delivery and blamed his tears on being overheated rather than admit he was overwhelmed with happiness when he held his newborn daughter. “Heroes are better than Knights!” She smiled as Arthur and Shinra began to argue over who would be the better protector, out of the corner of her eye Y/N saw the tremble in her lover’s body as their little girl reached out to grab his fingers and she just knew that no one would protect their family better than Benimaru.

#shinmon Benimaru #reader #enen no shouboutai #fire force #enn enn no shouboutai #garth ennis

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bouncingkadachi · 4 years ago

Text

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts.

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.”

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street.

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?”

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision.

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere.

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.”

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

“Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

#was anyone going to tell me that HR Kyle gets a MIZU BOW #You were just going to withhold this vital piece of information from me?#anyway here's 3k words about the significance of Mizutsune to one (1) boy that I love #I wrote this specifically with my idiot in mind #but asides from the gender and a few other lines I guess you can generalize to any other Rider #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter stories 2 #Annie writes

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pillow-anime-talk · 4 years ago

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genshin month ; twenty-second day.

synopsis: While walking with your little son, you were attacked by dangerous creatures. Fortunately, a dark-haired man walking nearby and saved the two of you from danger very quickly. So... how should you thank him?

# tags: scenario; strangers/lovers?; single mom!au; drama; mild romance; also soft fluff; daddy zhongli, uwu; sfw

includes: female reader ft. zhongli {genshin impact}

author’s note: i love him, guys...

It was a warm summer evening, a Friday to be exact; you were coming back with your four-year-old son from his grandmother and grandfather (by the way, they were your parents), all the time holding his tiny hand and talking to him about what you both should do the next day. Your little boy offered to eat a sorbet, so you couldn’t refuse, especially since you also loved such cold, fruity desserts.

Unluckily, halfway to Qingce Village – it means, the place where you lived for many years – you heard a odd growl and the sound of a loud stomping on hard ground. You looked uncertainly from your beloved child to the source of the noise, and your pretty eyes widened much more than necessary at the sight of the five hilichurls running towards you. They weren’t the smartest creatures, but their mere presence and willingness to fight were enough to scare you. In addition, the fact that your son was next to you made logical thinking difficult, and even the desire to stand on straight legs. You were terrified and angry; terrified that they might hurt you and your little one, and angry that you refused to stay overnight in your parents’ cottage, and it turned out to be a huge, really huge mistake.

“... Honey, it’s getting darker, isn’t it? Mom will pick you up now and we’ll run to our home, okay? We can’t be late for dinner after all.” You smiled cutely, and the baby, as if not guessing the threat, nodded slightly to you and giggling charmingly. “Let’s go quick then.” As soon as the smol toddler landed in your safe arms, you kissed his warm forehead and sprinted forward. You were really happy that you didn’t have luggage or other valuable and heavy things with you that would hinder your escape, but... even that wasn’t enough.

You were an ordinary, fragile woman who never held a sword, bow or shield in her hand. That’s why your son, though still young, seemed really heavy to you. For a moment you even laughed in your mind at the thought that recently he had really grown up and turned into a big, brave boy.

“Mommy... we don’t... we don’t have to hurry. Y-You’re tired, aren’t you?” A soft voice reached your ears and you shook your head. Even though your breathing was exhausted, you knew you couldn’t stress your young one.

“I-It’s alright, sweetheart! But how about if we play a little game? Whoever shouts ‘Help!’ louder towards the sky will win an extra portion of sorbet tomorrow! Sounds good, h-huh?” The kid was still unaware and indescribably happy at the same time, so your joint scream spread among the rocks, trees and lush flora.

You felt more and more weary as you ran, and your arms and legs ached a lot, but at one point you stopped because of a powerful ‘bang!’ that happened not far behind you. You looked back fastly, your child too, and you both saw a yellowish rock approaching and also a unknown man a few yards from the point of hit. Interestingly, a short second later it turned out that all five beasts were gone, and the tall stranger turned slowly in your direction, smiling gently.

“All right?”

“Mommy, mommy! This gentleman is a magician!” Your baby jumped on your hip and after a while you put your toddler down on the ground, breathing deeply. Obviously, the little boy ran towards the man, grabbing his hot, large hand. “It was so... w-woah!”

You chuckled shyly at the kid’s happy voice, then walked over to your (handsome) savior to thank him personally. He accepted your words humbly by shaking his head.

“I’m glad I could help. It’s the duty of every human being to save those in need. Hmmm... Maybe I’ll escort you to a safe place?”

“Ah, I will be grateful. As a thank you, would you like to have supper with us?”

“My name is Zhongli and I would be honored. But... won’t your husband mind?” He asked uncertainly, and you just smiled sadly.

“I have been without a partner for five years, so don’t worry about anything. And ah, and nice to meet you, thanks again for that... I’m Y/N, and that little rascal over here is Shun.”

“Yaaay! It’s so, so cool that you will eat with us! Nobody cooks as well as my mommy does, I swear!” The lil boy took your hand and pulled you towards the Qingce, bouncing happily. “Come on, mommy!” Unfortunately, you stumbled a bit because of the sudden pace. The tall fair-eyed luckily grabbed your sensitive body around the waist and helped you stand straight by touching innocently your smooth fingers.

Your four-year-old, as a typical child, was still unaware of what had happened; neither that you were being chased by hilichurls, nor that a dark-haired man killed them all with something amazing and indescribable, or even that three of you looked like a real family at that moment, which you never had in such a form, because after all, your former partner, when he heard about your pregnancy, left you and Shun totally alone. Of course, the elderly people from the whole village were very happy to help you two, but despite that, you often felt lonely and incomplete.

Now, however, seeing this tender but manly smile, and also feeling an unimaginable sense of security right next to your figure, you could say it was worth waiting so many long years for such a moment.

“... Certainly your mom is a great cook. After all, such delicate hands can only create wonderful things.” He admitted calmly, stroking your son’s head, and you blushed furiously as you looked away quickly. “Let’s go. This conversation make me really hungry.” You still felt the light touch of his thumb against your skin, but you didn’t feel bad about it, quite the opposite.

Right, right. This evening didn’t start well, but it will end up perfectly; of that one thing you were definitely sure of, and you happily took his smooth hand more correctly as you continued, now peaceful walk.

previous day ; venti ♡ next day ; chongyun

#— ⛩️#genshin impact month #genshin impact challenge #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #zhongli imagines #zhongli scenarios #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 2

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, things getting chaotic

Masterlist if yall are interested - you’ll find part 1 there

After an admittedly pleasant couple hours of greatly appreciated morning sex, the two of you are finally up and dressed for the days new adventure into the closest village which is about four miles southeast. Luckily for you, your man has a horse which is very fortunate when trekking through snow.

It only takes an hour or so to finally reach the small village of Thurn that’s located just below huge towering mountains that practically touch the sky. Snow covers the land just as expected though the market place is mussed up with mud and dirt from busy travelers and townsfolk alike.

Considering this place is surrounded by a great thick forest and there’s only one trail leading into it, and it’s not part of the main road, you can’t help but still feel apprehensive about who you may meet even with your Witcher by your side. No one knows who or what you are, and it appears that no one seems to care either, although you do notice how some glare in your direction. It’s not you, calm down, you try and convince yourself.

Geralt reassures you it’s only him that they’re keeping a wary eye on, and by the way he gives you a warm smile you believe him and do your best to forget the strange looks here and there. You’re safe with him, this place is away from the main road and there’s no way a single soldier would be here.

Standing on a building corner while facing the marketplace, you watch as Geralt pays for some dried fish and a fluffy loaf of warm bread. So far your nerves have calmed, though you keep a keen gaze on every opening into the great marketplace in case something or someone was to try and harm him or even you for that matter. You have killed many soldiers after all, not to mention the bear.

Suddenly a hand lays itself onto your shoulder when you’re not paying attention causing you to jump back and just about knock Geralt out with your fist. He barely manages to dodge it when you quickly reel back in shock, not expecting it to be him.

He chuckles lightly, “Just me.”

Rolling your eyes you smile fondly up at him, “Sorry...um, reflexes eh.” You mutter with a breathy laugh.

“Guess you were right about being dangerous after all.” He muses, making light of your slight embarrassment.

Taking the bread from his hand you playfully scoff, “Well then again, maybe not touch a woman before she knows who you are? Next time I might accidentally rip your throat out and you’d never see it coming.” You add while tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into your mouth.

Taking a small chunk himself, Geralt hums, “Wise words, I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Before biting into the bread, as you study his face you can’t help but notice how he appears to be fully enjoying your little makeshift breakfast.

Suddenly a flash of sunlight rickashays off of something metal catching your sight in the morning light, just about blinding you for a small moment. You blink, eyes darting to a market stall that’s filled with meats. Where two soldiers dressed in black are speaking with the butcher, you freeze, taking Geralt off guard with your new fearful state.

“Y/N what is it?” He whispers as you begin to breath heavily, eyes wide as you watch the Nilfgaardians every move. His grey brows furrow in puzzlement before he turns around to follow your line of sight, only to be met with the backs of two soldiers minding their business.

He can hear how loud your heartbeat has become as it thunders in your chest with rage and building adrenaline, he knows exactly what you want to do next but this is not the place for it. Turing back towards you he sets a cautious hand upon your shoulder, “Not here.” He warns softly.

You keep unflinching, nostrils flared as your fists clench in anger, his hand presses firmer now, “Y/N, not here.” He warns again, with more gumption this time, really meaning it.

Breaking out of your self inflicted trance your eyes shift back up to his golden ones, “It’s too late.” You whisper regretfully, “He’s coming for them.”

“Who is?” Inquires Geralt, unsure of what that could possibly mean.

Letting out a frustrated sigh you look to the slushy hard ground almost in shame, “My companion.......my bear.” You mumble, “I didn’t mean to but he can sense when I need him and now...I can’t...I can’t stop him Geralt.”

The Witcher’s eyes widen in realization, “What will the bear do?”

Bringing your worrisome gaze back up to him you shake your head nervously, “Whatever he wants.”

“Gods, Y/N.”

You cringe, this isn’t going to play out very well for you and Geralt knows it, “I know, fuck I should never have come here! We should have just stayed in bed and starved, let’s just hope he only goes for the soldiers and is satisfied with them.” You exclaim in a hushed tone, pulling Geralt behind a corner and away from any unwanted attention, “No one here will die unless they try and hurt him or me, you understand. We have to lure those fuckers away from the village. Now!”

“Alright then, do you have a plan?” He wonders, not so sure if you’ll be able to get these men away from the village in time.

“Yes.” You sigh begrudgingly, “Though it’s not to late to leave me and ride off into the sunset.”

He gives you a small smile at your attempt to make light of the situation, “I’m not leaving you, though it’s tempting.” He teases before turning serious again.

“My plan is for you to do nothing and I’ll harass those bastards into following me out of here and into the woods before my companion has a chance to find them in town.”

“I’m not just doing nothing.” He protests.

“Yes, yes I know. You’ll be my back up, okay? Now we don’t have time for this just keep close but not too close.” Before he’s able to argue back you’re already gone and halfway across the muddy street with a new fire in your heart that he’s willing to protect with his very life.

Fists clenched in anger you grab a frozen tomato from the stall next to you and without a second thought chuck it right into the back of one of the soldiers helmets with a loud thud. He grunts, whipping around with eyes full of confused aggression, “Now wha?”

Smack!

Another tomato right into his big ugly face causing him to choke on his words as he stumbles into the guy next to him. Dazed and frustrated he gets to his feet, unsheathing his jagged sword while his friend does the same. “You bitch! I’ll have your head for that you fuckin’ slut!” He cries angrily much to your sick satisfaction.

“Ma’m you have to pay for those.” Mutters the vegetable farmer fearfully, interrupting your sweet moment of anger.

“Shut up.” You snap, turning to glare daggers at the two soldiers. “Call me a slut again and I’ll shove his innards down your throat.”

Glancing at one another they smirk wickedly before charging at you, darting to the right, you sprint for the village entrance and out the giant overhang as they chase you towards the forest where a small group of tired travelers are coming from on a small wagon.

Fuck! Not these people now!

Your feet carry you almost to the safety of the thick evergreens before a thunderous roar is heard huffing and puffing from out of the pines. You fall to the snow just as the great brown bear blunders into the opening, immediately mauling down the closest soldier who gets pummeled into the wet cold earth. He screams in agony as his innards are indeed ripped out, though his cries are muffled when the bear clamps down onto his face, ending anymore unpleasant sounds coming from him.

The family next to you freezes in terror, their horse kicking and rearing at the wagon desperately trying to vacate the situation as her owner tugs on her reigns for dear life. The bear growls at the horse from across the clearing, face dripping crimson as the other soldier slashes the beast across the face with all that he can, still it does little but make a small scar of red on its furry cheek.

You gasp in pain at a stinging sensation on your cheek, however your mind doesn’t have time to weigh on it as the bear tears the man’s throat out with teeth the size of butter knives, claws digging into the soldier’s black armor as he feasts. Soon your companions furry head raises to meet eye to eye with Geralt who’s found his way onto the messy scene.

Your heart beats rapidly as you shake with adrenaline as your Witcher’s golden eyes dance from the large beast in front of him to you who’s behind both of them. Suddenly the bear takes a step forward causing Geralt to step backwards cautiously. Shit!

You move quickly to the creatures side, “Don’t.” You warn firmly, “He’s mine.” The enchanting ember eyes of the familiar meets your stern gaze as he snorts, giving a distinctive nod in understanding just as an arrow thrusts itself into the beasts shoulder.

“No!” You scream in unison with the bears roar of pain as a sharp stinging races it’s way up your arm when he knocks you to the ground, now standing protectively in front of you like a shield of steel. Geralt quickly turns around to find half a dozen more Nilfgaardian soldiers racing out from the village, one drawing another arrow as they ready a charge.

From behind the bears legs you can see what terror awaits, “Geralt!” You cry desperately as his eyes find yours, “Don’t let them hurt him!”

Heeding to your command, your brave Witcher jumps into action, taking out two soldiers before launching himself at the bowman who’s ready to fire. Your companion moves just as a last arrow plunges into the snowy blood spattered earth right in front of your face. You gasp in shock, staggering to your feet as the men that Geralt couldn’t stop attempt to take down your bear with their swords and shields.

Failing miserably they fall to the beasts paw one by one as you watch in relief, then to your great annoyance and admittedly slight fear does a lone man charge for you. One who’s been able to slip past the defenses, you reach down and take a fistful of snow before throwing it into his face, taking him off guard as you race for the wagon.

“Hand me a weapon!” You shout, “Quickly now if you want your children to live!” The terrified father keeps stiff and silent as his wife throws you a shovel of all things. Turning around you clash wood with steel, the soldier grunts as you kick his feet from out under him. Falling to the earth you quickly swing the rusted shovel around before harshly cutting right through his exposed neck in one clean motion.

His eyes gloss over as you pull the makeshift weapon from his bleeding neck, grimacing in disgust as you drop the shovel to the ground. Not feeling keen on witnessing the reactions of the family from behind you, instead your head stays forward as you walk away towards Geralt.

“Y/N! Are you hurt.” Rushes Geralt worriedly as he jogs over to your disheveled side, eyes all over you in case you really are wounded.

You nod, waving him off, “I’m fine, fine...I promise.”

He smiles, grateful to know you’re alright and uninjured, “Good. We need to leave.”

“I know, come on let’s find your hors..arh ahh fuck...” You scream in pain falling to your knees in the wet snow, Geralt catches you as your eyes darken in anger, two black pupils glaring furiously away from him. “No!” You shout, “Don’t hurt him!”

Turning his head to follow your pained gaze, he’s surprised to find some idiotic villagers as they throw rocks and other shitty weaponry at the roaring beast, “Stop it he’ll kill you!” You shout even louder now as he holds you back. Your familiar grunts and growls in protest as the men push him back farther into the woods, though they don’t stop, idiotically they follow.

“Let me go!” You snap at Geralt angrily as he holds you tight, “Geralt!”

“Y/N he’s a bear what are we supposed to do now, he cut through those trained soldiers like they were nothing, I’m not having you get anymore roughed up then you already are.” Pleads Geralt. No you idiot they cannot kill him!

Eyes darkening in rage you break from his tight grasp and shove him to the ground before grabbing his fallen sword and racing towards the stupid villagers who are disappearing into the forest, the roars of your companion sounding painfully throughout the woods.

“Y/N!” He shouts after you, still you ignore him, to focused on tearing into the woods with determination clear in your heart. Soon enough you find the men in a snowy meadow among the great timber, makeshift weapons pointing dangerously at the bear who’s now standing his ground.

“Get back!” You shout as they shove their sticks into the bears face that’s not even ten feet from them. “Don’t!”

The bear growls a fearsome roar of protest and pain as it backs up closer to the tree line while the villagers press closer and closer with their steel and wood, shouting insults as they go.

“Stop it he could rip your throats out you fools! Stop-ah..ouch fuck.” You seethe through clenched teeth as one of them knocks you to the ground with his garden hoe. He chuckles maliciously, eyeing you grossly as he holds up the tool readying for another hit.

“This your beasty, huh?” Taunts the dirty man with a smug grin just as your fearsome bear races to your aid with a new found purpose. He throws men that stand in his way before slashing open the mans stomach, entrails slipping out right before your vary eyes.

“Fuck.” You mutter before all hell breaks loose, more of the village men try and take down the bear but it’s no use, he slashes and tears at them, causing most to flee in terror back through the woods and eventually into the village.

“Stop! You’ve done enough for me! It’s time to go now, leave!” Is lost on the wind as the beast mauls down another man. Soon warm arms pull you from the ground and into a strong chest as your Witcher pleads for you to fall back. “Geralt no! I have to make him leave this place, he’ll kill all who try and harm him!”

“Y/N your bear is murdering innocents, this has to end now!” He exclaims while holding you close though he’s just making you more frustrated. No one is innocent.

“What are you implying?” You snap at him, dreading what he’s about to say next as you hold his arms against your chest.

“Y/N.” He whispers almost regretfully, face pressed against your cheek, “We have to kill him, it’s the only way to stop this slaughter from continuing.”

Elbowing him in the stomach you shove him from your side, face a mask of anguish and fear, “I can’t Geralt!” You exclaim loudly, “Fuck, there are just some things you don’t know about me yet! Dammit this is all wrong!”

He gives you a deep frown as he studies your face, confusion clear on his handsome features, “Y/N we have no choice.”

“There is always a choice!” Your voice is strong as you shout at him, he huffs in frustration at your outburst, clearly he doesn’t know why the bear cannot die. Y/N just tell him, he trusts you. Eyes softening you swallow thickly while touching your sore shoulder, “You don’t understand.”

Staring at you desperately, his face and hair undoubtedly a mess of dirt and blood, he looks to you now with deep confusion, “What do you mean?”

Breathing a heavy sigh you look down at the palm of your hand that’s still covered in bandages, “You can’t kill it, that creature is bound to me by an unbreakable link..”

“What?” He wonders, grey brows furrowing in puzzlement at your strange half explanation, “What does that mean Y/N?”

Your gaze falls to the snow covered earth then over to the beast that’s now decided to head for the woods, leaving a trail of bloody paw prints in the snow, no men left alive in it’s wake.

You frown deeply, your features conflicted and almost lost as you find his lingering gaze once more, “It’s complicated.” You begrudgingly mutter, Y/N he trusts you. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll explain everything.”

“Fine, come on.” Urges Geralt as the two of you make haste for the woods where Roach is waiting patiently.

The ride back is deathly silent, a new tension filling the small atmosphere around the two of you as you sit quietly in front of him. He doesn’t further press you for anything until he’s made it back to the secluded old cabin where he clicks his tongue to stop Roach. Boots hit the snow as Geralt looks up to you now, you nod lowly and let him help you down though you don’t truly need it, he ties off Roach before following you into the warmth of the small house.

As soon as you stand in front of the dying fire do your eyes fill with unshed tears while you bite your lip anxiously. Geralt’s gentle gaze falls onto your form as he steps closely in front of you, reaching his hands up to carefully clasp his hands with yours, “Tell me why this bear is so special to you, please Y/N?” He quietly asks.

Blinking the tears away you rest a hand onto your wounded shoulder that’s left a red mark through your shirt, though still letting him hold the other one. “That beast is my twin brother Geralt.” His brows raise in surprise still he keeps silent as you continue, “I don’t understand it myself, and neither does he. But ever since we came into this world something has linked our very souls and vessels together so that if one of us is hurt, the other feels it too.”

Blinking hard, the Witcher’s brows furrow even deeper now, “That’s your brother.” He repeats, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing as he starts to connect the dots, “Is this why your hand is hurt and your shoulder is wounded?”

You sigh, tilting your head up to fully look at him, “Yes. When you cut his paw it cut me too, then earlier when that damn archer shot him in the shoulder I felt everything.”

“I could tell you looked in pain, and your cheek.” He brings a hand up to gently caress your cheek, “A fresh scar. I did wonder how that happened.”

“It’s a quick pain, still hurts of course. But it’s something I have always lived with, and it’s something mages would be very inclined to study so you mustn’t tell a soul.” You affirmed through pleading eyes as you suddenly pull apart from his grasp when a jolting pain hits you on the temple unexpectedly. “Fuck, what the hell?”

Geralt’s at your side in an instant, “Y/N you’re bleeding.” Worries your Witcher as he grabs a spare cloth and applies it to your head. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes, it’s a simple cut. My brothers thick skull is to thank for that. Dammit if I could only find him.”

“Couldn’t you through some twin bond like you said, maybe that would work?” He suggests.

“Ah shit, fuck...okay yes there is another way...but please don’t look at me differently when I tell you. This is the last secret I promise.”

“Nothing is stranger then this twin link, tell me Y/N I trust you.”

Giving him a kind apprehensive smile do you nod, “My brother isn’t the only one who can change form, I can too. Difference is....I’m a wolf.”

Your heart beats with fear as Geralt begins to chuckle much to your confusion, “A wolf huh? Of course you’re a wolf, I’ve heard this could be destiny of some kind. Do you believe in that horseshit?”

You let out a humorous breath, “Well, I’m a skin-changer and if my twin gets hurt so do I. So...uh....I’m not exactly one to not question what weird shit destiny has in store for me, I mean look, I’m with a Witcher and he hasn’t killed me yet.”

Geralt’s hums, golden eyes shinning bright down at you, “And I don’t ever plan on it.” Oh, Geralt.

He smiles fondly at you though you begin to frown, “Well that’s just it huh, my brother has taken bear form for a while now, he won’t want to come back. And those villagers saw me with him, they’ll know...they’ll hunt for us. Geralt I can’t have him hurt anyone else...but what can I do? There’s only one way to truly reason with him....but I’m afraid.”

“Why? What would happen?” Worries your Witcher.

Your eyes briefly drop to the floor before they shift back up to Geralt, “I must take my beast form to speak with him, he understands me as I am now...it’s just, well I can’t really understand him as a bear.”

“Then we’ll find him.” Mutters Geralt reassuringly, causing a tiny smile to appear on your face, “Together.”

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x you #the witcher

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suddencolds · 4 years ago

Note

different anon here but omg im so happy you made a kaeya/albedo drabble.. could you write up a pt 2 where kaeya catches his cold? doesnt have to be long, anything would do if youd be so kind

😭 anon... please, have mercy. Reversed roles are my absolute ~weakness~, so just this once, I am here to deliver a fic that I didn’t spend like 300 years writing. (Thanks for the excuse to write these two!!)

[part 1]

—

A few days pass before he sees Kaeya again.

Albedo is only at the headquarters to ask Lisa if she has any books on the medicinal uses of Liyue specialties. The meeting is a coincidence, all things considered. Kaeya is leading a group of Knights—new recruits, Albedo thinks, because he’s pretty sure those are new faces—back into the main hall.

“Captain,” one of the recruits is saying. “I’m sorry about today. I’ll do better next time.”

“Struggling with training?” Kaeya asks. “I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“I wasn’t. I just… I should have been able to dodge. Back up in Starfell Valley, when that hilichurl fired. It wasn’t hidden or anything, but I didn’t notice.”

Kaeya shakes his head. “It’s a lot to think about, right? That’s one of the tricky things about fighting with a close-range weapon. It’s not a bad thing to pay attention to whomever you’re clashing swords with. Just don’t forget to keep an eye out for enemies that are further out.”

“Got it,” the recruit says, solemn.

“Your swordsmanship has improved, though.” Kaeya adds, “I can tell you practiced. The new sword suits you.”

The recruit brightens visibly. “Thanks a lot, Captain.”

It’s not surprising, really—Kaeya has a strange talent for saying the right thing at the right time. He’s patient, too, and good at strategizing; all things considered, Albedo can’t think of someone more qualified to be training the Knights.

But Albedo isn’t here to watch. It just looks like their group is about to adjourn, and he figures he should really thank Kaeya for his help a few days ago—Kaeya is a fast learner, and an even better conversation partner. Had it not been for him, Albedo knows he would’ve been up on Dragonspine for much longer.

Currently, Kaeya is turning to address the entire group. He still hasn’t noticed Albedo’s presence, it seems.

“Great work today,” He says, then launches into a speech about strategy. It’s not a notable incident—or, it shouldn’t be—except the more he talks, the more Albedo can tell how tired he is. It’s subtle. It’s Kaeya—of course it’s subtle. But his posture looks deceptively casual—really, it looks like it’s taking all of his energy to keep himself presentable—and mid-speech, he’s actually stifling a yawn. His voice sounds slightly off, too, perhaps from overuse.

They’re all busy, Albedo knows. But he feels guilty nonetheless. He knows it had been Kaeya’s decision to help him, but still—perhaps it hadn’t been the best choice, seeing how much he still has to do.

“Captain Kaeya,” one of the other recruits interjects, after Kaeya finishes his speech. Most of the other Knights have already started to leave. “If you are free later, could I stay late to train with you today?”

And Kaeya—

—Kaeya, for some reason, hesitates. He shuts his eyes for just a second, as if he’s at war with himself, before he opens them again. This time, his smile is a little less effortless, a little more strained. “Of course. I need to get some paperwork filled out first, but I’ll meet you after.”

“Alright, thanks! I’ll wait for you outside?”

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

The recruit—oblivious to the fact that something’s wrong—turns to head towards the exit. Kaeya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed. He really looks exhausted.

Albedo wants to call out to him. He’ll say thanks, and then he’ll get out of Kaeya’s way. But then Kaeya starts off towards Jean’s office—to pick up paperwork, presumably—and stops halfway down the hall, tensing, one hand hovering over his face—

“hiiH… hiiH’ESSCH’ew!”

It sounds… rough, and tired, as if he’s been doing that all day. He sniffles, shivering, and continues walking, and Albedo knows.

He feels bad immediately. Kaeya had been kind enough to help out—of course he had, he’s selfless like that—even though he must have been busy. Meanwhile, Albedo hadn’t thought to tell him to sit further away, hadn’t been careful enough about not touching what he’d touched, hadn’t stepped away when Kaeya had insisted on walking back with him, hadn’t protested when Kaeya had lent him his scarf for the walk back through Dragonspine’s freezing weather…

...All things considered, this is most certainly Albedo’s fault.

—

“I got it, Jean,” Kaeya says, taking the pile of paperwork from her desk.

“Take it easy,” she says. “You should go straight home after this.”

Kaeya smiles tiredly at her. “Oh? I thought you didn’t want me slacking off. I can do more today, really.”

Jean rolls her eyes. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing. Please, for the love of Barbatos, get some rest.”

Kaeya can’t say he feels very differently than Jean says he looks. Still, even if Jean won’t ask him to stick around, the new recruits will—he likes them, but they’re still new to combat, which makes things harder on him. In between scouting domains, looking out for the younger knights, and trying to cover for the mistakes they make, perhaps he’s pushed himself just a bit.

“It’s just a cold,” he says, turning as far away from her as possible to cough into his elbow. “No one’s ever taken off work for a cold.”

“For now it is,” Jean says. “I don’t want it to turn into something worse because you won’t rest.”

“It won’t. It’s just paperwork, right? I could do that in my sleep.” And one-on-one training with a recruit. And after that, another meeting with the Knights, and a domain East of here to scout out on his own, but Jean can find out about that later when she’s reading his reports.

It’s very unfortunate that he has to sneeze.

He takes another step away from her, lifting his hand to cover.

“hiIH’EESCH’-ew!” he winces. The sneeze is loud, and it sounds almost as miserable as he feels, which means it feels far too transparent. “Hiih… hIIH… snf… hiiih’IiDDZScsh’ew! hIIIH’EZSCHh’-iu! ugh… snf…”

“Bless you,” Jean says, sighing as she passes him the tissue box on her desk. He takes a generous handful of them and before handing it back. “You sound awful.”

Kaeya laughs, pocketing the tissues. “You never fail to flatter me, Acting Grandmaster.”

“Forgive me for being worried,” Jean says flatly. “At least tell me you’ll take care of yourself.” “Of course. When do I not?”

She gives him a significant look, which is fair.

He takes the chance to leave her office. His head hurts, more than it would if he’d just had a bit too much to drink, and it’s the kind of headache that he knows is going to get much, much worse if he doesn’t take it easy. Maybe if he rushes, he can get the paperwork done before then.

The recruit he’d spoken to is waiting for him outside, he recalls. He rubs his nose, shivering, and heads for the door.

Someone is waiting for him, but it’s not the person he expects.

Kaeya musters the energy to smile. “Albedo! Did you need something?” He probably shouldn’t be taking on additional responsibilities after Jean’s already told him to take him easy, but then again, this is Albedo—whatever he needs, it must be worth staying late for.

“I just happened to be stopping by,” Albedo starts. “I, err, wanted to ask Lisa about my research.”

“I take it that you didn’t find what you needed?”

“I did.” “Is that so?” Kaeya says, faltering—if that’s the case, he’s not sure why Albedo is still here. “Were you waiting for me, then?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, except Albedo hesitates, and Kaeya feels bad for suggesting it.

“Actually, I was,” Albedo says, which is a surprise.

Kaeya’s breath has gone unsteady again, and he rubs his nose, sniffling. Albedo, who seems not to have noticed, keeps talking.

“I wanted to tell you—”

Kaeya doesn’t want to interrupt, but colds tend to make his sneezes so jarringly unavoidable. He turns away, lifting up a hand to shield his face. “Hiiih… hiih’EESCHh’ew!” He gasps, and with a muffled sniffle, presses his hand closer to his face. “HIIH… hiiIH’IIZSCHH-uu! hIIIH’NGKT-Sshew! snf…!”

—His shoulders untense as he finally lowers his hand, fishing through his pocket for tissues. How embarrassing, he thinks, blowing his nose as softly as he can. He doesn’t exactly want to look over to Albedo to see the expression on his face—disgust, probably, or worse, pity—

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says instead.

Kaeya’s glance snaps upwards in surprise. “What?” “I was hoping you wouldn’t catch this,” he frowns, looking away. “I wasn’t careful enough. I did not intend for you to feel miserable because of me.”

What is that supposed to mean? “This isn’t because of you.”

“Captain,” Albedo starts, completely serious. “Whose cold do you think you have?”

Kaeya blinks. It’s true—he’s probably caught this from Albedo, given that he can’t think of anyone else who’s been sick lately—but that doesn’t mean that Albedo should feel guilty over it. “Colds spread. It happens, it’s not your fault.”

“I should have been more careful,” Albedo shakes his head dejectedly. “Or perhaps I should not have accepted your help at all when you offered to stay. I knew you must have had a lot of work. It was selfish of me.”

“I told you, I wanted to help,” Kaeya insists.

Albedo sighs. “You are selfless to the extent that it is detrimental sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sent the recruit home, by the way. Really, you couldn’t have told him to wait a couple days?”

“He asked for my help.” Kaeya holds a hand up, veering away again. “I wasn’t going to deny him just because of… a… hiIH… c-cold… HIIih’EESSCHh’ew! HIIIH’GKTt!-shew!” His head throbs in protest, and he sniffles, tilting his head upwards, a fresh tissue in hand, in ticklish anticipation. “hiIIH… hiIIH’IIIZZSCH’ew!”

It takes everything in him not to slump against the wall.

“Bless you,” Albedo says. “You sound—”

“—awful?” He lowers the tissue with a laugh. “I know. Jean informed me.”

“I was going to say tired,” Albedo says, shifting forward to feel Kaeya’s forehead. His hand shifts to Kaeya’s cheek, studying him with a look of such intense concentration, Kaeya tries not to smile. “I don’t think you have a fever, but you’re warm. Allow me to walk you home?”

As enticing as the offer sounds, he shouldn’t. Everyone else is working hard—he knows if he does less work than usual, it will be Jean and Amber picking up the slack, which is the last thing he wants. “I still have lots to do.”

“It can wait until you’re well. The Knights will survive if you take a day off.” Albedo drops his hand, but he’s still looking at Kaeya with the same intensity. “I will talk to Jean, if it’s an issue.”

“Please don’t talk to Jean,” Kaeya says sheepishly. He’s sure she wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find out about his plans to stay and work late.

Albedo raises an eyebrow. “Will you listen to me, then?”

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all—he can head home, sleep this headache away, and come back in the evening. “Well,” he starts. “If… hiIIH… hiiIH’ESSCH’ew! snf-! If you insist…”

“I do.”

“...I guess I could head home early.”

It’s worth it, for the way Albedo smiles softly in response. He looks... relieved, Kaeya realizes, which is strange, too—he hadn’t expected Albedo to be so worried about him.

Kaeya starts off in the direction of his house. It’s not a long walk from the headquarters—certainly closer than the manor was, back when he’d lived there. Admittedly, it’s lonelier sometimes, living on his own.

Unexpectedly, Albedo follows him.

“You’re really walking me back,” Kaeya says, slightly disbelieving.

“Yes,” Albedo says. “Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

“It’s nice.” Kaeya sniffles, stifling a cough into a raised hand. “I hope you’re not just doing this because you feel bad about this.”

Albedo hums. “I’m not. I am quite free this afternoon, thanks to your help. I do feel bad, though.”

“Doing alchemy with you was the most exciting part of my week,” Kaeya says honestly, flashing him a grin. “I’d say it was worth catching a cold over.”

Albedo stares back at him. Then he smiles back, so brightly that Kaeya feels warmer, just looking at him. “You could come visit more often, then. I enjoy having company if it’s you.”

#snz kink #sneeze kink #sneeze fic #snz fic #gen/shin im/pact #ask #i wrote 500 words of this and hated it so much that i deleted the entire draft and started over #strangely the more i write ka/ebe/do the more i like them?#off to do schoolwork now... i will proofread this when i get back ;;#my fic

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quantumlocked310 · 4 years ago

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In the Bed of Love - Chapter 2

Moodboard by the incredible @flowers-in-your-hayr!!

It’s Chapter 2! This one switches POV to Hvitty’s favorite Gorgon.

Summary: Our intrepid Hero Hvitserk, burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood, takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings (so far): greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn

Ratings + Word Count: [General - 1,765w]

Series Masterlist (contains extra notes about Greek words and some of the Gods mentioned) Now with more Gods!

Extra Relevant Note: Malakas means Asshole in Greek (according to Google Translate)

++++++++++++

The early dawn is quiet, with dew glistening off the statues in the garden, and you’re the first awake in the house. As usual you walk quietly to the dresser where you get the silk robe gifted to you from Dionysus. Enrobed you walk down to the kitchen where you take a small cup of wine and yesterday’s bread out to the garden for breakfast.

There are a few stumps scattered amongst the statues, and you sit on the one closest to one of your favorite statues. Malakas the goose, who thought himself brave one day as he bit the ankles of your sister, Sten. You and Marmor had collapsed together laughing at the swiftest of you being chased at length by the ornery goose. Sten had yelled and screamed at it, to no avail, before finally giving in and glaring it to stone, and proclaiming his name Malakas.

“Good morning, friend.” You greet the goose and pat it on the head, but notice there’s something different about him today. Inside its mouth is a piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with ink on it. You look at it puzzled, then look around the garden a little, but see no one. After dipping your bread in the wine and taking a bite, you put the cup on the stump and grab the paper. Only to immediately start coughing.

It’s a crude drawing of you standing in offense with your shield. Clearly, the artist has no skill, but it’s obvious the figure is yours both in size and you’re the only one of your sisters who can carry a shield as big as this one. You’re a little flattered, and a little suspicious. The gorgons train together every evening, but this paper wasn’t in the goose’s mouth yesterday.

After finishing the bread and wine, while staring at the drawing, a million thoughts run through your head. Foremost concern for your security, and who could be watching. The gorgons were fearsome creatures, and that attracted idiots who wished to prove themselves against a mighty foe. Hence the many armored statues around you. Then curiosity, and why this person would focus on you. Once your foes reached your gates, they usually focussed on the muscular strength of Marmor, or the svelt speed of Sten, not the chunky bulk of your body made for sturdy defence. It was useful in battle, being underestimated. But it was never an advantage for love.

Sten didn’t care about copulation or partnership, and Marmor had a sometimes-something going on with Haphaestus. You loved your sisters, and you loved your life in the Oikos, but there were days when you wanted what Aphrodite and Eros talked about or what you saw at gatherings with Dionysus. Pleasures within and beyond your dreams were always just out of reach, because you were a gorgon, a monster. The risk of loving you was too great.

Why would anyone find you beautiful enough to put on paper?

The feelings well up inside you, and burst. You crumple the drawing in your fist, a few tears escaping your eyes, and immediately regret what you’ve done. Slowly you stand and smooth the paper back out, then go back inside to place it in the drawer of your bedside table.

You put on your clothes for the day, then put on a chestplate and greaves. It’s decided, you will check the perimeter and see if you can find whoever is spying on the Oikos. On the way out you run into Sten who is weaving in the inner garden.

“I’m doing a perimeter check.”

“Would you like company?” Sten responds absentmindedly.

“I’ll be okay. Keep half an ear out in case another one of Philoctetes’ useless heroes is lurking about.”

“I dunno. The last one was cute. Maybe it’s time we had a mortal as a pet.”

You roll your eyes and counter, “I’ll be sure to mention that if I find one. I’m sure they would be willing to live under threat of getting chopped into tiny bits and fed to our snakes.”

Sten turns her head and raises an eyebrow, “You might be surprised.”

You scoff and turn to go, “I’m never surprised anymore.”

As you walk through the garden to the north side of the Oikos, you try to shake off this strange mood that the drawing has put you in. The edge of the cliff is your first stop, and you center yourself listening to the rushing waters of the Styx below. You see Charon in his ferry and raise a hand. As usual you get the most minute nod in return, and you make your way east along the forest border, taking light steps as Artemis taught you, and tuning into your snakes scenting the air.

Over halfway done, and you haven’t found anything of note. A few of the traps Sten maintains have caught small game, and you cut some of the excess string to tie them together and drape the catch over your shoulders before resetting the traps.

On the last leg of your check your snakes perk up. They sway further West and you follow, keeping your light hunting step, and making sure to draw your sword. You go further into the forest until you can no longer see the bright signal of the Oikos, and then you find it. There is a patch of disturbed leaves and earth where a small fire had been. The ashes are almost completely brushed away, and the leaves spread over to make it blend into the ground. If you did not have your snakes to guide you to the scent you would not have found it. Whoever had camped here knew how to cover their tracks.

Unfortunately, your snakes couldn’t help you track any further. They knew if something was prey, or different, but they didn’t have the skills of hunting dogs. Once you found the spot they had scented, they would not know where to track from there, and your meticulous circles around the ashes yielded no more results.

You huff to yourself and when you finally stop, your stomach gives a mighty growel and you observe the sky. You’ve missed the mid-day meal, and it was past time to start daily training. Marmor is going to be insufferable. In your haste to sate your hunger and get to training you neglect the last leg of the perimeter, much to the luck of the prowling Hvitserk who had no idea how close he came to being discovered.

When you reach the edge of the forest there’s a twang and a zing, and you twist behind the nearest tree, shield on your back, pressed against the bark. You watch the arrow dig into the wood of the tree in front of you.

“What the fuck, Sten?” You shout.

“You’re late!” Replies Marmor.

You groan to yourself then shrug the shield off your back and use its shiny metal to see where your sisters are. Slowly, you pull off your catch for dinner from around your neck, and get ready to throw them at your sisters. Raising your shield in front of your body to deflect Sten’s arrows, you launch the strung together animals over your barrier, then shove forward to put your whole weight behind your shield, in hopes that you will shock Marmor and throw her off her feet.

It works. Marmor’s annoyance has her getting thrown off briefly, and the training session really begins. You block and parry, attacking when you can, but mainly trying to cover your open spots when Sten shoots arrows toward you. You’re late, so they’re both going harder on only you.

But your head isn’t in it. The moves are harder to come into your mind than usual, your footwork not as instinctive as yesterday. An off day all because of some faceless enemy stalking in the trees. Who are you kidding, it could just be a traveller. But the way the ashes were buried has you nervous.

And the drawing. Marmor’s sword clangs against your shield just in time. How could you forget? Were they connected? Could you get away with telling your sisters about the perimeter check but not the drawing? You didn’t think so. Your gut is screaming that they’re connected.

But now your gut is screaming, because Marmor kicked you.

“Fuck you!”

“Focus up! What if an idiot hero comes here? You’re not going to win fighting them like this.”

“Oh. My. God. I know!” Your snakes start hissing as they pick up on your anger, and you keep hacking and slashing toward your sister, trying to disarm her even though you know it won’t get you anywhere.

All you want to do is stop and think for a few minutes. Plan your next moves. Figure out who is watching you and why. And why would they draw you? That’s the part that’s gnawing at you the most. There’s a weird fluttery feeling in your chest and you absolutely hate it.

You use your anger to back up your power. Attacking furiously where you would usually stay back and block. You’re reckless and Marmor gets in a few close calls with her sword. You’re trying to block a particularly vicious swing of the sword when you hear Sten call your name, the duck seems to happen in slow motion where you watch the arrow fly just past your brow, and feel the sting of a sword on your thigh. Marmor has pulled her sword down across the top of your shield and you hadn’t pulled your leg back in time.

“First blood!” Sten yells, and Marmor pulls up and stops, only looking a little apologetic.

The wound is just a scratch for you. It stings, and will heal in a few days, but first blood stops the fight.

You rest the edge of your shield on the ground and lean on it just slightly, staring at your sisters. “We have to talk. Inside. It’s not safe out here in sight of the woods.”

“You found something.” Sten remarks. You glare at her. If you’re being watched, you definitely don’t want to be heard.

“Then let’s go eat. You must be hungry, Y/N. You’ve been out all day.” Marmor says, her eyes narrowing and trying to covertly scan the treeline. She walks over and grabs the game you had thrown as a distraction earlier.

Together, you walk back to the Oikos. Quiet and a little sullen. Your sisters don’t like off days any more than you do, and they are anxious to hear what you’ve found.

++++++++++++

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @artemiseamoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash @ritual-unions-gotme @pomegranates-and-blood @mrsalwayswrite @jadelynlace

#hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #plus size reader #hvitserk x plus size reader #Hero! Hvitserk x Gorgon!Reader

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antihero-writings · 4 years ago

Text

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch7)

(^^ Art commissioned from Junki Sakuraba on instagram and deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too. The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Notes: Hey all! I am SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. My perfectionism really got the best of me with this chapter. But I saw that S4 was on its way and that really lit a fire under my butt because I really do want to post my season 3 chapter before s4 comes out. I’m highly doubt I’ll accomplish it as it almost always takes me longer than I have to get a chapter out, let alone two, but I'll try, at least.

I really really hope you enjoy it!! If you enjoy this chapter, please please consider commenting. I assure you it’ll be more likely I’ll post the next chapter faster the more people comment on this showing you still enjoy this fic. Each comment is a little shot of energy and motivation for me.

Important! This chapter is meant to have aesthetic indentation in some places. So if you want to read it as-intended, please look it at on Archiveofourown at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on your computer or tablet!!

If you get here and are thinking “Wait, what was this fic about? What were the main themes?” then this would be a good time to reread/skim back through the earlier chapters. This is the climax of the fic and will (hopefully) be more impactful the more you remember about the rest of the fic and its many themes.

Chapter Summary:

"Go back whence you came! Trouble the soul of my Mother no more!" "How? How—How is it that I've been so defeated?" "You have been doomed ever since you lost the ability to love." "Ha—Ah... Sarcasm. 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world, and loses his own soul?' Matthew 16:26, I believe. "Tell me. What—What were Lisa's last words?" "She said 'Do not hate humans. If you cannot live with them, then at least do them no harm. For theirs is already a hard lot'. She also said to tell you that she would love you for all of eternity." "Lisa, forgive me. Farewell my son."

Chapter 7: “Heart”

Hey there, Sunshine, the Room adds with a smile.

The Room forgot the sweet tang of breath. How gentle, how vicious. Like honey, like relief, like a cozy blanket and a fireplace. It came in great, gulping gasps, and living was painful after such long breathlessness, but hurt far less than being half dead.

The Room rushes to Castlevania, shaking it, saying, Open your eyes! Open your eyes! It’s Adrian. It’s our boy. My master. My sunlight. And Castlevania limply flickers open its eyes, for it cannot help but obey.

Obey to see the golden man standing in its doorway.

And it feels a jolt of warmth in its broken chest.

Alucard has returned home. He arrives at the doorstep with resolve in his closed fists and a sword on his tongue. The threat to the war they all knew he would be, and the Room promised it would rear him to be.

But he isn’t alone this time.

There are two humans by his side. One with fire in her fists—quite literally—the other with a barbed tongue at his hip.

Castlevania recognizes a crest on the clothing of one of them, gold and proud: The Belmonts. The ones who came with whips and scourges to defeat its master long ago. The ones whom Dracula and his Castle were bound together against in their undead war. The ones whom Dracula trusted his Castle to protect him from. The owner of the hold now beneath Castlevania. He has come to defeat its master like the rest…but this time the boy is by his side, and for that reason, the Castlevania is unsure how this will end.

“I terrify them,” the Belmont explains the plan, “Sypha disorients them, Alucard goes over the top and we support him.”

“Yes.” The Speaker confirms.

Alucard holds his sword out horizontally in front of him, unsheathes it, and speaks:

“Begin.”

Alucard is with the Belmont.

And Castlevania knows when it sees them, the fire in their eyes, that they are the intent that brought it here. That they have indeed come to kill its master once and for all. It had wished when the boy returned, it would be with the promise of hope. But there is no promise of life and the sparing of it this time.

They bring death inside with them; the war room is filled with war, blood and burns on its floors, but it is different this time, because this is not an ambiance, a continuation, a fact of life, it is a swift and fatal kiss—the end they said he would bring, once. The blood is rotten on the floors, but it doesn’t itch or burn. And the boy uses those techniques his father taught him on brighter nights about turning into things with teeth, and the ones his mother once taught him on sunnier days about how to make metal listen.

They did not bring life inside this time, not life of the same kind at least. The war, the death, has followed and swallowed them too, but not in the same way it has its master. They are not bloodthirsty. The cold the dark and the death are merely clothes they wear, they have not reached the deepest parts of them; there are still light-starved Rooms in their hearts waiting to breathe.

There is a song at their heels as they dance in rings of fire, with the wind and the moon, upon the blood and water Castlevania isn’t sure will come out of the carpet. It is a song that is all too familiar. It has been played here before, when other, more, less, holy Belmonts barged in long ago. A song of blood and tears.

Bloody tears its master cried once, for his wife when he realized they had taken something that could not be borrowed, bartered, or souled.

They’re bringing an end to the strife, and all the undead lives that facilitated it, and vice versa. They are cutting the puppet strings, and not all puppets can live without them.

Isaac fights the nameless soldiers on the staircase for its master…until he sees someone who is far from nameless.

Isaac’s reddened eyes meet Alucard’s golden ones. Alucard’s sword aims at him, but it hits the deadened flesh of the nameless instead.

Isaac runs to tell its master—Dracula, busy ripping out the heart of a nameless—who’s here; that his sun has returned, and at his side is magic and might.

Dracula knows the prophecy.

He’s willing to die—Issac. He stands before Dracula, his form barely able to shield three-quarters of Dracula’s, willing to give his feeble human life for Dracula’s indefinite undead one. He believes knowledge and will are more important than the blood of a good man. He believes in love, and loyalty is love of a sort. And it is Castlevania’s understanding that when someone is willing to live for something, they are also willing to die for it. This is the noblest of causes.

“You are the greatest of your people, Isaac. You have a soul, I think.” As Dracula says the words, he raises his hand, and the mirror shards behind them begin to rise. “Perhaps that is more valuable to the world to come than a dusty collection of books and apparatus.”

Lisa looks on from the portrait, and Castlevania thinks it is a look of pride. She always did stand for saving human lives rather than destroying them. Isn’t it funny that in what will perhaps be the deciding battle of this war, the one where his goals should possess him stronger than ever, it is the human who he values more than himself?

“Or perhaps you simply deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.”

“I choose my death, as I chose my life.” The words are stronger than iron.

“Then I regret only that I have taken a choice for you.” A hand at his shoulder.

Dracula throws him halfway across the world, to the kind of place Isaac was born in, and the kind of place Isaac least wants to die in.

Isaac believes in love. And it is for this reason, this belief, that Vlad saves his life, Castlevania knows. Saves his life, by denying the choice he so desperately wanted to make—perhaps his whole life—and had no regrets or apprehensions about making, rather a lot more in being kept alive.

And when the mirror shatters and falls, his son is standing there, like he did a year ago, though this time he is not backed by sunlight. The only light in the room is the fire glinting in his eyes.

A pause. To remember the dead.

“Father.”

A word. To remember the living.

“Son.”

This should be a reunion, perhaps. Better people would think they should happily hug each other, and say they missed each other, and that they love each other all the same. Better people would say that the sunlight should plead with the dark to come back into its embrace. All the sinners know there was no chance of that the moment Dracula scrawled fate on his son’s skin with his own claws.

Instead, there is nothing but bitter, fighting words:

“Your war is over.”

Dracula tilts his head to the side. “Because you say so?”

“It ends.” Alucard looks at his sword, the one she taught him how to use. “In the name of my mother.”

Dracula looks at his son, the one she gave him. “It endures in the name of your mother.”

“I told you before I won’t let you do it.” Alucard’s voice is so soft, yet solid and unwavering. There is no anger, but he will not step aside. Not this time. Even when the claws come. “I grieve with you…but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“You couldn’t stop me before.” Dark assurance in soft words.

Footsteps. A cue to the magic and the hunt behind the curtain, who step out on either side of him.

“I was alone before.”

And Castlevania understands. Understands that they are not here to talk things out. Understands that they are not here to save Dracula, to appeal to the good in him, as Lisa once had, and the Room once thought. Castlevania itself even hoped, when the boy returned, the song would be a bit more inspirational. But, beaten and broken and bloody, Castlevania understands now, if Alucard stands with the intent, if Alucard brought a Belmont—

Then they do not believe there is a chance. They are not here then, to talk him out of it. They are here to halt this war in its tracks, make it rear up, lose its balance, and fall.

—(And Castlevania knows, deep down, that to do this… they must end something else)—

Alucard is bringing back the sunlight. But there is only one way he can do that, and goodnight is not quiet.

And make no mistake he does intend to bring the full, the warm, the life, and the light back, just like Castlevania and the Room wanted. But there is too much cold, dark, death, and emptiness here to do this quietly. They are here to kill Dracula—the master now puppeteered by Death’s strings rather than his own soul.

The Speaker raises her fingers to her lips as if to say a prayer, or perhaps take a heavenly name in vain for the sake of a little silence. The Belmont’s whip clinks in his hand. Alucard’s sword sings as he raises it.

Alucard drives it towards his father: a bolt of golden lightning through the room, pinning him against the fireplace as books fall to the floor. Castlevania, wincing at the pain, knows that will bruise in the morning.

The picture of his mother cracks and falls, as if she has to close her eyes for this.

Alucard, growling with fierce resolve, pushing the sword into him with all his might. But Dracula has the sword in his hand, rather than his heart. He steps calmly forward, barely having to use any of his strength to combat so much of his son’s, as if he’s about to tell him to put the toy away.

A glint of golden eyes. Alucard pulls back the sword. A slash. Two. Three.

Dracula raises his arm as if to knock the sword from his shoulder.

Instead he bashes his son’s head into the fireplace—and Castlevania cries out at the feeling, feeling its stomach burn.

The Speaker and the Belmont ready for a fight. The floor splinters—(Castlevania grimaces, tasting blood)—as Dracula flashes through the room, and pins the Belmont into the hall, against the wall, sending his sword out of his hand. He keels over onto his hands to cough up blood, the puddle crawling on Castlevania’s skin.

Castlevania never had any qualms with the blood of Belmonts on its floors before, so this hurts less, but this is different, and Castlevania still wonders if Dracula could be a little gentler with his Castle.

A flash of light at his side. He raises his cloak as the Speaker sends tongues and teeth of fire at him.

“Speaker magician!” Its master realizes.

He rushes at her, knocking her hand out of position. She creates an ice shard before her with the other.

He scratches up with a claw, sending her flying with the broken pieces towards the ceiling, and angry gashes appear on her arm as she rolls along the floor.

“Sypha!” The Belmont calls.

He must love her in some way, because in a fit of some sort of emotion—instead of picking up his sword—the Belmont uses his fists. They probably haven’t failed him before. But this is Dracula, and his punches don’t cause the king to so much as flinch.

“You must be the Belmont.”

Castlevania laughs a little at the words; it too thought the method was rather common of his line.

It’s Dracula’s turn, and his punch doesn’t just cause the Belmont to flinch, the sound is as if he hit rock, sending him into the air with the force. He doesn’t give him a second to breathe, rather reaches his claw is around the human’s neck, holding him there.

He raises his other claw level—a blade, more trustworthy than any.

“The end of your line.”

Before he can make these words true, another blade stops him: his son’s, driving itself through both his arms.

While he is pinned the Speaker, knowing this is an opportunity she will not get again, rushes forward—still bleeding, mind—a bead of fire between her fingers. Dracula cannot move to protect himself, and the magician, knowing this, lets the fire loose to lick his face raw.

Dracula drops the Belmont, attempting to get away, deciding his own life takes precedence, but it is hard to get away when your hands are tied together with metal.

The Speaker, seeing that her fire is about to hit Alucard, falters. And in that moment Dracula wrenches his arm off of the blade and uses it to knock her down, before sending his other fist into his son, who goes flying along with his sword hitting the wall. This one may not be so hard as to bruise, but, with everything aching and breaking, the smallest tap hurts Castlevania.

The Belmont pulls a blade of bone from his back-belt, and as Dracula turns he drives it into his chest.

It’s not close enough to his heart, but red distaste fills Dracula’s eyes. He thought this was a game, but they have some amount of ability, and he may have underestimated them. As Alucard and the magician get up he attempts to grab at the Belmont in quick motions, but he has some skill in dodging.

The Speaker rips off her shirt and cauterizes her wound as the Belmont and Dracula dance in the hallway, neither weapon hitting flesh.

Dracula sees the Speaker’s intent over his shoulder, and as the Belmont lunges at him grabs his arm and throws him into her, stopping both their attacks. An effective move, if Castlevania does say so itself.

Alucard sees his opening and rushes forward, pinning his father to the wall, which shatters behind them with a painful lurch.

Dracula puts his hands together and brings them down over his son’s head with such force the floor cracks.

And Castlevania coughs blood.

Alucard pushes his arms away and slaps both sides of his face, getting a grunt this time. Dracula sends him back with such force it almost seems like a shockwave, creating wind and smoke curling around them all.

The Speaker roots him in place by sending ice spears into his leg. The Belmont clears the smoke by spinning his whip, before creating more by sending that whip—the one he fed the vampires that didn’t agree with their compositions—sizzling into Dracula’s chest. There’s an explosion to be sure—a rather big one—but after the smoke dissipates, and a wait with bated breath, Dracula is still standing just as he was before—as Castlevania knew he would—like all he threw at him were words.

…At least at first, to show he isn’t taken down so easily. He does fall to his hands thereafter.

“The Morningstar whip.” The words are scratches in the carpet. “Well played, Belmont. But I am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.” The words sizzle on his tongue. “I am Vlad Dracula Tepes,” he crosses his arms with purpose. “and I have had ENOUGH!”

His voice is a shockwave of its own across the sea of stone and bone. He sweeps his hands to the sides, his cloak rising like wings as he floats into the air, and creates a ball of magma: the cheat that will end the game. He was going easy on them until now.

It rumbles towards them, eating the carpet as it goes—and Castlevania can feel the burning in its chest. The Belmont’s eyes widen with fear at last. The Speaker rises to the occasion without hesitation, and holds out her hands to stop it with the force of her magic. It’s a force to be reckoned with, for sure: at first she succeeds, but, though it may be slowing, it isn’t stopping, and her feet are slipping. The Belmont puts his back to hers, as any good friend and comrade would. Alucard phases in front of them, the burning wind rushing against his face. He calls his sword, which sings as it reaches his hand, poises it, and drives the point into the magma ball.

They each fight with all their might, the Belmont and the speaker begins to grunt with the weight of it. The ball gives a falter their way, and Castlevania is sure even three cannot match Dracula’s strength, but the Speaker gives a final push, which gives Alucard just the right amount of momentum to drive it back toward his father, who is as caught off guard by the display as Castlevania is. He needs no sword or magic to stop it, however, and puts his hands out to hold it. Gold and red push against each other, until Alucard gives a deciding motion, then another, another, each chipping away at the ball until the sword goes flying and it’s just Alucard’s arm against Dracula’s throat, and their momentum creates a sizzling tunnel in the wall.

Castlevania may not know what guns are, but it knows what it feels like to be shot.

The two burst into the library, shattering the already shattered mirror.

It was so quiet in here. Must they sully the silence with the sound of strife? They read here, once. Sometimes alone, sometimes to each other. Whispered to each other of history and mystery.

Dracula lands on the floor and Alucard floats above him in the room in which he once stood on his level and told his father calmly he wouldn’t stand for genocide.

There’s anger in his eyes now.

Dracula hisses, then gives a war cry, and the two allow their hungry fists to attempt to devour each other as best they can in the air, red and gold flashing.

The Belmont picks up a sword in the other room and, deciding it’d be best not to follow them through the tunnel—(Castlevania is glad for that decision. The wound is still raw and would more than likely sting tremendously if they walked on it)—he and the Speaker run up the stairs to follow them.

They’re on the floor now and their punches fly like starlings—their duel reflected in the shards of mirror fluttering, jittering about, ever awaiting their command, as if attempting to tap their shoulders and ask what they should do, and why they are hurting each other—until they are hitting the bookshelves they once were gentle with—lest the pages rip and the silence tear—the ones they once smiled and discussed philosophy beside.

Castlevania’s head aches, nausea in the back of its throat.

A smiling boy and his father handing him another book, saying if he liked the first he’d like the second too, are all but gone now.

Dracula throws Alucard into the ceiling, and enters the room above with an unearthly sound, in an unearthly way: only his cloak is visible, moving like slime. As his hungry footsteps lick the floor behind him, Alucard is heaving on his side that same floor, his hair falling across his face. He turns around, fear coating the sound he makes as he, without his sword, grabs the nearest block of wood that happens to have a point on the end.

Dracula laughs, like they’re playing a game—(they did once, do they remember? Humans and monsters. Sometimes there were princes, and knights, or pirates. Even a princess or two. And the wolves and the bats were free in the night wind)—and stops.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.” Alucard murmurs, turning around with some difficulty.

“What?” Dracula chuckles, still with that put-the-toys-away intonation.

“You didn’t kill me before.” Alucard breathes. “You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.” The look in his eyes is almost crazed.

“DO I?!” The tone is almost crazed in response, the nonchalant edge gone, the words resounding with power and grief.

Alucard scrambles away like an animal, causing Dracula to punch the floor instead of his head—Castlevania’s body lurches. It feels a gentle touch at its chin, someone trying to wipe the blood off perhaps.

“You died when my mother died. You know you did.” He reasons as Dracula’s breathing gains weight. “This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

Castlevania jerks its head up, eyes wide at these words.

And Castlevania understands.

The cold, the dark, the empty, the death. They all make sense now.

Alucard rushes at him, Dracula knocks the stake out of Alucard’s hand with ease, but, in a moment of extreme dexterity, Alucard manages to grab it from the air and drive it into his chest still. The look in his eyes is almost pleading, like he’s going to ask “Daddy did I do a good job? Did I do it right? I’ve gotten better at fighting haven’t I?”

“Not quite close enough.” There is a gurgling quality to Dracula’s enunciation.

No more playing.

He shoves Alucard so hard its into the next room.

Castlevania keels over onto the floor, it’s stomach aching and prickling.

Dracula pulls the stake out and heaves before rushing after.

Floors below the magician and the Belmont can hear them, and are trying their best to catch up, to have a say in this fight.

But Castlevania isn’t sure they have much chance of that, as they are flashing through the halls now, Alucard, a foot off the ground, zig-zagging between the walls in the narrow hall as Dracula keeps punching bloodless stone—

—(The stone may be bloodless, but god this hurts)—

Until Alucard punches him back, sending them into a room, a bedroom—(but not that one)—and the room is a pile of rubble with just that. And Castlevania can feel the splinters. That furniture was nice.

Dracula grabs Alucard’s face and shoves him into the dining room, pinning him to the table like he’ll eat him too if they’re not careful, and those chairs were perfectly nice too—

And Castlevania sees a little boy waiting at the table for his birthday surprise, and his father pulling out a burned cake, and his mother laughing. There was no fear then. Though its master was a creature of blood it never thirsted for theirs, and they knew this full well. Can they see it too? Why would they destroy this room if they did? Why would they destroy each other if they did? Are they even the same creatures as those in the memory?

At this point Castlevania is pretty sure they broke a few of its ribs.

Alucard kicks his face and gets on the table on all fours, rushing him into the next room still.

Castlevania’s bleeding, broken heart skips a beat. Surely they must have broken a few ribs, for how else could they get into Castlevania’s heart? The control room, where its gears still lie dripping, glowing as orange as a brand, once beating organs now blazing stalactites.

They punch each other along the platform, Dracula’s cloak whipping about, like a cat’s fur trying to make him look bigger and scarier.

They are framed in the paneless window—those bones have been all but broken too now. The frame where the picture—that is to say, the die—no longer sits. For Castlevania’s heart didn’t just break, it was destroyed when they brought it to this place, the place where its enemies once lived, and still stand today.

—(So why can Castlevania still feel it beat?)—

In the frame now is moon drunk on blood, a night soaked in tears—and the wind whispers to their cloaks, bidding them to whip around them.

Dracula draws in a hissing breath.

Alucard stands tall, his eyes aglow, gold melting into something new in this forge, his hair whipping about him as he raises his fist yet again.

They are getting tired. Their snarls have a weakened quality to them now.

—Can they see the father and son in this room, the father teaching his son that his Castle is special?—

But instead of just punching him, Alucard teleports beside his father, hitting his shoulder, sending a gust of wind to his face, then teleports around the room to send his fist into him over and over, from every possible angle, and some of his kick-offs create cracks in the already breaking bindings of the room.

It feels like pins and needles, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

Why?

Dracula’s grits his teeth, sharp as ever, his eyes alight with bloody determination, his hair playing about this gaze. To end it, on the next hit he grabs his face, shoving him by it onto the stone platform. He shoves him once, twice, a third, the metal cracking, the metal creaking—

Castlevania’s gut lurches, and it can taste bile and iron at the back of its throat, and it’s hard to breathe.

Then its master raises Alucard back up, holds him by the face in the air a moment, and punches him with such force he is blown across the length of the platform and through the thick stone wall into the next room—

And Castlevania vomits blood.

Dracula bolts after him, the dust creating patterns in his wake—and Castlevania could gaze in the clouds if it weren’t for whoever’s trying to slap it awake.

Alucard coughs, and it sounded deep.

Its master is nothing human now. There’s a growl in his throat as he marches towards him, and another cough in Alucard’s as he struggles to stand.

Another punch, but this one is not fast like the rest, nor is it blocked. Alucard tries to stand up, to rush towards him, but he is getting tired, and Dracula hits him again. Another growl. Alucard takes a single step back, soft against the floors. An exhale. Another of both, and as Dracula raises his fist the murmur—plea?—on his son’s lips sounds a lot like “Father,” as if he’s reached his limit, and has to stop the game.

It’s too late to hit quit now.

The vampire king doesn’t grant the plea—or perhaps even hear it; with a belabored punch he sends him into the next Room, rolling this time, instead of flying, the contents of the Room staying in tact…all except the bed, which catches the boy.

The next Room. But this one is not like the rest. It is not just a room.

This one breathes.

A gasp, another growl, a scratch against the wall, and—

Castlevania burned today in this bloody fight, on this bloody night. Its skin, its legs. Even its heart broke.

Castlevania. The thing that Vlad Tepes brought to life with a little bit of lightning, several gears, and a few words. No magic words, just words: the ones he spoke on lonely nights to the walls about how he’d like to be something more than ruthless.

Castlevania did everything it could. It lies burned and broken and unable to fight now because of it.

But none of that burned half as much as those scratches on its walls.

There have been many stories told about Dracula, and there will one day be more stories told about Dracula, books written, enough that one could fill libraries with just the retellings of his story. And Castlevania has no doubt that one day these scratches will be on their covers. This growl, these scratches are the signet of a vampire, of a monster: the disfigurement of his Castle, bloody intent directed at his son. The dark, the death, and the emptiness have overtaken completely. That is all a monster is, really. That is all he is now.

He marches into the Room, his cloak flowing, dipping and twirling in the broken wind. The sound of Alucard’s breathing fills the Room as he heaves against the bed.

Or maybe the breath is the Room’s own.

The Room has seen all that happened, it has been watching Castlevania beaten bloody till it could barely breathe, or see through the blood dripping down its face, let alone move. Castlevania could barely feel the comforting hands on it, the attempts to bandage the wounds, or at least stop the bleeding that it knew could only belong to the Room. Castlevania could barely hear the Room’s frantic, desperate calls to action, to get up, or just ask if it was okay. And now the Room stands, fists clenched at its sides. The Room wants to fight back. It will fight back.

The Room is not violent. From the very beginning it stood against all the violence, the dark, the empty, and the death. That was what it was made for, after all. As much as it would like to, it does not wrap its hand around Dracula’s throat, claws digging until it draws blood, and demand “How does it feel?! How does it feel to be on the receiving end?!”

The Room’s footsteps are soft as it comes up beside Dracula. It puts its hands over the king’s eyes and whispers in his ear, gently as it can:

“Remember me?”

Then, quietly as it came, it removes them, as if playing peekaboo, revealing that it was there the whole time, his eyes were just covered for a while.

It may as well have been removing scales, because Dracula freezes, his eyes wide, as if he’s seeing, not just the Room, but the whole world for the first in a long time—And he is. The first time with living eyes. And one sees things very differently with living eyes. And Castlevania was his world and it hopes he sees the world differently, for Castlevania is not a thing for him to beat and break. Just when Castlevania thought there was nothing left…there is something more than anger in his eyes now.

Dracula’s angry cloak quiets, falling docile at his feet: a sign of reverence towards the Room, and all it stands for.

Alucard, after allowing his breath to regain itself, looks up, his eyes widening too at his father. His father. No anger, no fear, not even determination now. Not in this Room. This Room is different. He remembers now: in the hush that has fallen across the world like freshly fallen snow, this is his father.

The Room kneels at it’s boy’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder feeling nothing but life and love, so much so it extends to the creature that created the scars on its throat, and on its boy’s chest.

“It’s okay. You can go to him now.” The Room says.

And it knows what that means.

It knows that sometimes peace comes at the price of war.

Dracula curls his hand, the one with the claw that just made marks on the walls that are written in stone, and will never be undone. Within the glow of the window, his reddened eyes too are no longer angry. For so long those eyes sat dormant, empty, and glazed in his skull and at last they contain something. The Room’s words have gotten through the glaze, shattered the glass.

“It’s your Room.”

It’s more than just a statement. He made a promise when he made this Room. This Room was to be his son’s Room. There would be no violence, not in this Room. Not ever. Not today in as much as not ten years ago. He will not hurt this Room. He will not dare touch it, for fear those claws will mark more than just the walls; that all the memories will come crashing down.

The words are not angry. They are not dark. They are not empty. They are not dead. They may seem dry, and stated, but they are dripping with such longing and loss it might fill the whole Castle.

The desk where Vlad taught Adrian of letters, and of numbers, and of the borders of the world. The wardrobe where Lisa dressed him up in fine clothes, and casual ones depending on the occasion—Dracula had so few special occasions to celebrate alone, they were a lovely thing. The bookshelf full of all the knowledge of immortals, and the stories of mortals. The carpet where the boy sat and played with his toys. The nightstand, still with a potion bottle upon it, and the cards of a game they’ve no doubt forgotten how to play, right where they left it long ago. The shelf above it with another bottle, and a tiny satchel of even tinier precious things, and a little toy lamb. The bed upon which Vlad and Lisa once sat and told stories, and sang lullabies, or else lay curled up next to him when the nightmares got too vicious to bear alone.

—(How many did he have to face alone?)—

And Castlevania can see them all. The father teaching his son to count, and to write. The mother running after her naked toddler, trying to convince him clothes really aren’t so bad. The careful pouring of the potions so they change color, or explode just right, the father smiling proudly when he gets the questions correct. The pride of the mother when her son won the game, and the way her husband said “again” like if they just played another round he would win this time. The boy playing with the lamb and the wolf; they they got along in his stories.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart…was it?

Alucard stands—the motion fluid now—blue light caressing his face as he raises his eyes. Vlad too looks up. But they’re not looking at each other, or the Room, rather into the stars. Not the ones outside, the ones they painted—brushing paint upon each other’s noses, so long ago, and Castlevania can see that too—as if those stars hold all the bottled wishes of childhood. It always was crowning jewel of this Room.

Adrian’s eyes oscillate like perturbed waters, because he knows, he knows he’s about to lose it all. And yes, there’s a sort of childlike yearning in Adrian’s eyes, as if he’s wishing upon those stars that he didn’t have to do this, because he’d really rather find another way to spend this night.

The stars wipe the bloodstains off of Dracula’s eyes. The blood drains off the moon too, as if he is so powerful he can bid the sky to bleed.

His lips shake with long-forgotten words—(or maybe they were just buried, and not everything buried in a grave stays there)—and he holds his hands to his chest, if nothing else to stop them from hurting innocent boys and castles, and shuts his eyes.

“My boy.” The words are said like everything in him is breaking

And it is.

—(The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. Does that mean it never broke?)—

“I’m—I…” The word falls to the floor, so soft, like it’s the only apology he has to shed. “I’m… I’m killing my boy.” And the truth is so gentle and broken its almost more painful than all those punches to the walls.

He steps across the Room, and this time his footsteps are not foreboding, not marching nor stalking. They are soft. He is only walking. This boy is not his prey. Not in this Room.

He walks to the picture on the wall, the one called “Happy.”

Castlevania remembers the day they took it home. The painter really did do a good job, Lisa had said, and Castlevania agreed. Castlevania soon learned that even when they were not here, even when the boy was not small, even when they were not happy, that moment would still be captured upon the wall to return to any time they missed it. Long ago Dracula had no need of pictures and paintings. But those pictures have been everything to him, and everything left him, now that Lisa is gone. They are all the traces left of what they once were in this Castle. That picture—the one Dracula buried and tried to forget existed—that picture bottled happiness, and it gives Vlad back his happiness now. And it makes him so very sad.

“Lisa. I’m killing our boy.” Vlad says to the memory. “We painted this Room. We…made these toys.”

His eyes as they dart around the Room—to the books, to the basket with the wolf and the blocks—are glazed, but not in the same way as before, this time it is with memory, and that makes them more alive than ever, as are his words. And in that moment she is alive too, and he is Vlad, Lisa’s husband, and Adrian’s father.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

And then as he looks down his eyes are not glazed at all, rather they hold understanding. He understands what must be done.

Alucard’s foot pushes off the ground, bends the knee, stands, and, no, he is not Adrian, for there is a cracking, a cracking like lightning, a cracking like the world breaking.

And it is the most horrible sound either the Room or Castlevania have ever heard. More horrible than the squelching any heart Dracula ever ripped out. More horrible than the desperate pleas of his victims. More horrible than the cackles of his friends. More horrible than the crying of the child that Castlevania can still hear echoing through the Room.

—(The sound Castlevania hated so so long ago, and now longs for far more than anything else in the world, longs for that painting to swallow the universe and bring it to life again)—

Castlevania and the Room can both feel that sound like a thousand splinters and spider bites, like both of them shattering as if they were made of glass after all. Even the furniture here bleeds.

Vlad backs up, putting his hands over his face—Don’t hurt them, they don’t know what they’re doing—

—(Yet…he hurt them all. So much so he didn’t just disgrace her words, he tried to kill her gift, their son, her blood)—

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He lifts his hands from his face and looks into his son’s eyes, his own so alive, despite their glass, tilting his head to the side. Everything slow and gentle now. He is Vlad. He is Adrian’s father. Not the vampire king who put innocents on stakes. But they all know something happened to Vlad on the night Lisa died.

“I must already be dead.”

And Castlevania, burned and bleeding, understands. The final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. It has been dead too. It’s life, bound in red to its master, will break to the call of a stake. Because a reflection cannot exist without the thing it reflects.

Because…they are mortal.

That was the trade, all those years ago: immortality for mortality. Lisa would gain an immortal mind, and Dracula a mortal soul. He would teach Lisa the knowledge of immortals, the methods of healing that must be kept secret to live with a vampire like time held no grip on them. And she would teach him how to live as a man, how to travel as a man, how to care for his son, as a man, as a father. And in that moment his soul was bound to hers.

She brought the undeath in him to life, and Castlevania understands; only things that are alive can die.

It learned through Lisa, through Adrian, what it was to be alive. And it knew that undeath, while not death, is not life. Dracula was undead and his body could not die. But now that she brought him to life, he could die. His soul already died with her. He’s been rotting in an empty shell—no wonder Death could tie those puppet strings to him. That’s why the emptiness in him was so active; cold and dark and empty were only adjectives before, now they are nouns; he was emptiness, death, walking around. And that, too, is what Castlevania has become. It too is mortal. It didn’t die with her, but something in it ceased to tick when Dracula came back without a soul in his chest, and it knows, bruised and burned, broken, and bleeding that that stake in his son’s hand is calling them both.

You knew all along, didn’t you? Castlevania asks the Room, and there is no malice, no blame, there.

The Room jerks its head up to look at Castlevania, then its eyes soften and it grimaces. I hoped I was wrong. The Room replies softly. I…I hoped there was another way.

Alucard’s eyes hold some sympathy, some semblance of the boy they once knew, in fact rather too much, for both threaten to pour out of those eyes and stop all this. He doesn’t want to. But it’s too late for anything else.

Vlad eyes hold some semblance of the man they once knew, so much so they threaten to make him something more than ruthless, something that doesn’t deserve to die. He closes them tilting his head. He knows what must be done.

There is no anger in either of their eyes, no determination, not even resolve. Not anymore. Adrian wants to free his father in the only way he can.

A step forward, and this step has purpose, that stake is silently growling, drooling at his side as he stalks his prey. Another. Another. Like the beating of all their hearts, and the atmosphere is so silent that everything can only break.

And Dracula will not stop him, will not fight back. Not this time. Like all those times he let his son win, because even though he was more skilled at at the game, it was more satisfying to see Adrian smile.

He is not here to talk things out.

Alucard barely raises that stake—

A second horrible cracking, this one in flesh.

This time he aimed higher.

Dracula’s mouth fills with blood, it seeps through the cracks in his teeth. The blood from his chest drains down the stake—the broken piece of childhood—down his son’s arm, collecting on his elbow, and when it hits the carpet a burn begins to appear on the Room’s chest.

A grunt as Vlad leans forward, the blood dripping from his mouth to the floor—another angry gash upon the Room’s skin, and the Room is trying to pretend it’s okay, but it can’t hide the hurt in its eyes.

It knew what had to be done…but the violence goes against its nature.

His eyes fill with blood, but not from undead purpose. The moon is still clean. These are those bloody tears, the ones from the song earlier today. He is free, relieved…and he will never see his son again.

“Son.”

To remember the living, and those who will live on without him.

And the word is spoken very differently than it was earlier today. Then it was solid and hollow. Now it is ghostly, and so full it could hold all the world. Their world, at least.

This Room, this Castle, that word. They are their whole world.

And it is an honor to have been a world to such terrible, wonderful creatures.

“Father.”

To honor the dying, and what they once were while alive.

The word on Adrian’s tongue is the same, though more solid, more alive, and thus able to hold more pain. A faltering breath, a cracking forgiveness.

The word means something now, at the end, where before they were nothing more than titles. They are pleading with each other. They are bleeding with each other.

They don’t want to do this. They shouldn’t have to. It is far too cruel.

Mothers shouldn’t have to bury their daughters, and sons shouldn’t have to kill their fathers. It’s an unspoken rule of life.

But Alucard can’t stop there. He must finish this. The fire, the resolve regurgitates in his eyes, and he pushes harder, like with the magma ball, and, no, this cracking is worse, because Castlevania can feel it in its own chest now.

Castlevania can hear its master’s heartbeat, can feel it with the drops of blood dripping and sizzling on the floor, and it thinks it might just be its own heartbeat.

Alucard does not hate his father: there is pain on his face. But he cannot stop there.

He must end this war. And unlike those given with kisses to his forehead once, this goodnight is not gentle. Not this time.

He inhales,

closes his eyes,

and breaks his father’s chest.

That stake goes right through Castlevania, and something in it involuntary breaks.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. The destruction of the die was merely the amputation of both its legs, still bleeding out. This is a breaking, not of skin or bone, but of something deeper. It thinks this might just be what it feels like to cry.

And something happens in the breaking. A change of some sort. Castlevania isn’t quite sure what—pain and disorientation are the best of friends—all it knows is that the world is smaller now, and hurts less.

And as Castlevania’s heart breaks, the reflection in the painting shatters, the reflection of the bond between father and son severing with a stake.

The world is so much smaller now.

Dracula’s head jerks back and, eyes now seeing something other than this world.

Dracula is no ordinary vampire, so he does not die like an ordinary vampire. Rather than catching on fire, there’s just smoke and ash; his face drains, turning from ghostly pale to a charcoal, black without flame, before it really is ash, sliding off his face, his cloak like sludge.

There’s no orange, just the red stain, and the grey his life was marred of. Ash and smoke. The true undeath.

Alucard turns his face away, still holding the stake in place.

Dracula lifts up a hand, a skeleton hand, and Alucard turns to see the skin sloughing off around his ring. Though his spirit may have left, it seems his body won’t quite let go of this world; with mere bones Dracula reaches out, takes a step forward, as if to touch his face, to hold his son one last time, to catch the last embrace he was not afforded.

Adrian has shed that resolve, now he can do nothing but take slow and careful steps back away from the monster he has no sword or shield to fight. He the child again, the one who belonged in this Room, shying away. He is Adrian, the one who didn’t like the stories that were bloody. And in all the years the boy spent in this Room, the sheer fear in Adrian’s eyes as he looks up to see his father’s rotted face, with mouth agape, leaning bloodlessly towards him—an image that Castlevania fears will haunt him the rest of his days—is matchless.

Hurried footsteps at the door. The Speaker and the Belmont, at last, have made it to the show, though it seems they paid for only the final song. They step upon the threshold to see the rotting corpse of the king stepping towards his fearful, tearful price.

The Belmont draws his sword, and Dracula’s deflated head—the one that seemed so alive moments earlier—lies in a bloody pool on the floor. And as the neck bleeds and the Belmont watches the body fall to the floor, he isn’t sure if that was enough.

And Castlevania can’t feel its heartbeat anymore.

“Alucard. Step back.” Sypha’s voice is tempered. “Let me finish this.”

He does, the steps cautious and small, sorrow in his gaze. He holds the unbroken bedpost till his hand shakes.

Castlevania never liked children, the crying, the leaving, the guests, or being controlled.

But it did like Lisa. It did like Adrian. And—be it a sting—it did like the sunlight. And always and forever, it loved its master. A reflection cannot help but adore the thing it reflects. A creation cannot help but be a worshipper of its creator. A dream cannot help but revere its dreamer.

“You want me to.”

Smiling a little at how true the words were, in the end, Castlevania found it quite liked the relief.

Castlevania puts a hand on the Room’s cheek, smiling, and its mouth tastes less like blood now. It looks at the moon—bleeding no longer—and blue calm fills every part of it.

“What a wonderful night to have a curse.”

The Room stares at the castle, a little horrified by the sentiment.

“What…What should I do?” The Room stutters, fear and realization coating its words, for it knows what’s happening.

Castlevania smiles wider than ever, and its voice sounds softer; “The children.”

“What?”

“You should let them in. Any child who needs refuge. Along with as many guests as your master wants to welcome. And you should cry. Cry when you need to—and let your master cry too. Stay, but let him leave, if he must, knowing he will always come back. Let yourself be controlled at times, because sometimes that which feels the least right is the most right.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Be warm. Let the light in every window. Be full, and most of all, live. Can you do that for me?”

The Room holds onto the Castle to keep it from falling, tears already descending its cheeks.

“I—I will try.”

The Speaker lets the flame loose to eat the pieces, to engulf its master’s body in the fire he stared at all along, as if yearning for its embrace, creating a spiral of flame upon the circle in the carpet.

They were right to assume it wasn’t over, at least, because there are shapes in the flames; from the smoke and ashes rises a tower of skulls, a legion of spirits, more than a one king’s soul should hold. They’re all crying havoc, war, blood and pain from a yesterday long forgotten. Their smoke snuffs out the flame, blight covering the Room, blocking out the stars that so enraptured them earlier. Sypha and the Belmont cover their faces, but Alucard is unsurprised and undaunted by the darkness lurking in his father’s chest, and faces it without looking away. This darkness bursts out the window like a flower bloom, flows like a river out into the hall—the one cracked and bruising—flying over the war Room where the war resides no longer, and escapes into the night, fluttering, spiraling around Castlevania’s parapets like butterflies.

On the charred floor, the only thing left of the king is his wedding ring.

Castlevania sees the vampire king as he once was; young and restless. The skeletons eating stakes. Castlevania remembers what it once was: lightning, books, gears, and a few lonely words. It sees the woman with the knife at the door. It watches them build the Room. It watches the boy grow up into this beautiful thing.

Castlevania always wondered if it could breathe. It was never quite sure. The Room always seemed to possess a kind of life it never had; a life that hid in the breath.

“Take good care of him for me,” Castlevania murmurs to the Room.

“Have I ever failed you before?” The Room tries to smile, wiping its eyes.

As the sun rises over the hills, a single ray filters in through Castlevania’s window, touching it, filling every part of it, and for once it doesn’t sting.

And with the last sigh of the last ghost circling the parapets, Castlevania exhales its last breath.

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emilia3546 · 4 years ago

Text

Shadowsinger Part 8 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

*****

Azriel hadn't moved all night, and Gwyn hadn't stirred in his arms, she was still sleeping soundly, snuggled into his chest. Azriel cradled her against him, waiting for her to wake up on her own. She showed no signs of waking even an hour later, and they'd soon be late to training, not to mention his wing was cramping up from where she'd wriggled slightly onto it half an hour ago. He subtly sent a shadow to open the blinds, sending sunlight flooding into the room, bathing everything in a rosy glow. Gwyn scrunched up her nose, hiding her face against him, the light making her stir and blink open her eyes. She froze as she realized where she was, but smiled, and released Azriel's wing,

"Sorry," she mumbled, "You should have just shoved me off, y'know,"

"I didn't want to wake you," he muttered, brushing the hair out of her face, "You were so calm,"

"I was asleep, so obviously,"

"Still, I didn't want to incur the wrath of waking you, either,"

"I'm not that bad!" She protested,

"Oh really?" He chuckled, "Nesta told me one time you launched a full-on pillow assault because she woke you at the time you usually get up." Gwyn glared at him,

"Nesta needs to mind her own business," she mumbled, "I was tired." Azriel snorted, and got up, ignoring Gwyn's squawk of complaint,

"I thought I was supposed to push you off, make up your mind," he laughed, turning to grab a set of leathers from the wardrobe,

Duck

What?

A pillow smacked him in the back of the head, and he turned to find Gwyn grinning triumphantly at him from where she sat on the bed. She squeaked and dived under the duvet when he picked up the pillow and tossed it into the air a few times, before throwing it back at the lump under the duvet,

"Asshole!" Came the muffled response, and he chuckled before ducking into the bathroom to change, grunting when his face met another pillow the moment he returned. Gwyn giggled, and threw another one that he barely managed to dodge, before crossing to the bed and grabbing the last pillow off her. He chuckled when she dived off the bed, grabbing the pillows she had thrown earlier. She threw one, and then pounced, smacking him with the pillow again and again, until he laughed,

"I surrender! You win, oh mighty Valkyrie." Gwyn huffed, and let him up, grinning to herself as she ran out of the room to get her own leathers. Azriel chuckled to himself as she ran out,

Ask her to dinner.

What? No, don't be stupid.

Ask. Her. To. Dinner.

Stay out of this, just do your jobs.

Our job is to help you. We're helping you. Ask her to dinner.

Gwyn returned before he could respond,

"Az, you're supposed to be teaching, it'd be absolutely disgraceful if you were late." Gwyn sauntered back out, leaving Azriel to roll his eyes and follow her.

*****

Nesta was already there when Gwyn reached the training ring,

"Are you planning anything today?" She asked, and Nesta shook her head,

"I was supposed to have lunch with Elain, but she's still not speaking to me after I shouted at her."

"What?"

"For upsetting you. She's mad, thinks I should be mad at you for being happy, and Az for being an idiot." Azriel winced as he overheard their conversation. "I shouted at her after you left, made her cry actually." Gwyn glanced away,

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be the cause of conflict between you."

"Oh you're not, Elain deciding to be a petty bitch is the cause, she's just picking a fight because she's upset that Az isn't following her around any more." He what?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he used to fancy her,"

"Used to?"

"He hasn't made any sort of move for ages, and she's never had to go for anything before, so she's a bit put out by it, I think. She doesn't dislike you, don't worry, I think she's just a bit all over the place at the moment." Gwyn nodded, and glanced towards Azriel, setting up the obstacle course again with Cassian. He'd stopped going after Elain. Nesta groaned as she followed Gwyn's eye line, "Cass has been being so annoying about that damned obstacle course, we've got to beat it, beat him." Nesta grinned at Cassian, casually rotating her wrist, and sending her sword flashing through the air. Cassian snorted with laughter, and shook his head,

"Save the swordplay for later, sweetheart." Nesta lost her rhythm, and narrowed her eyes at him, leaving Gwyn struggling to contain her laughter at Cassian's grin as Nesta flushed at the promise in his eyes. Nesta was saved from further embarrassment by Mor and Emerie's arrival, and Emerie grinned when Mor said something quietly, vanishing moments later, leaving Emerie quickly explaining at Nesta's questioning glance,

"The brace is finished, Mor's gone to fetch it, and she's staying for training today." Gwyn didn't miss Emerie's grin each time she said Mor's name, but didn't comment on it either, turning her attention to the obstacle course facing her. She let a few others go first this time, focusing on listening. With each female taking on the course, Gwyn remembered Azriel's words, listening for their footsteps, the slight changes in direction, whether they were louder or quieter, running or walking, or fighting. When her turn came, she had a reasonable idea of what the course looked like, up to a point at least.

For the most part, she was right, and easily navigated the first half, before having to slow down, to pay closer attention to the obstacles. She focused on one at a time, but kept listening and checking for any new ones, any potential 'enemies'. She passed her previous marker, and almost reached the end before the wooden beam she'd been running across gave way, and she collapsed to the floor, her wrist twisting unpleasantly beneath her. She squeaked in pain, and scrambled backwards as the beam fell, slamming into the ground where she'd been moments earlier.

"Shit!" A shadow was already swirling around her wrist, even as Azriel sprinted across the ring to reach her, a blue shield flaring up when another chunk of wood fell towards her. She scrambled to her feet, inspecting her wrist as she moved, it wasn't broken, sprained maybe, but nothing more. "Are you hurt?" Azriel gripped her elbow, tugging her towards him as he met her halfway across the ring,

"Not really, just hurt my wrist a bit." Azriel's attention snapped to the wrist in question, a shadow still circling it, and heaved a sigh of relief,

"It's not broken,"

"I know that, dumbass, I just fell funny on it, what happened? It wasn't supposed to break was it?"

"No, no it wasn't." Cassian was already at the faulty obstacle, and shouted back to Azriel,

"It's been tampered with, there's a bit of damage here as well," he ran a hand over the next obstacle, and locked eyes with Azriel, "This came from Illyria." Gwyn looked to Azriel, his face cold, almost unreadable, but a muscle twitched next to his eye, he was worried. She gently rubbed the hand still holding her elbow,

"It's okay, no-one got hurt."

"This time, who knows what might happen next time, that beam could have killed you."

"It didn't, I moved, we'll just have to closely inspect everything before every session." Azriel nodded, his siphons fading from the brilliant cobalt blue that they had been a few moments ago to a more subdued color, light no longer shining from them. He stepped back from Gwyn, running his gaze over her, from head to toe, and she let him ascertain for himself that she wasn't hurt, "I'm fine, Az." She muttered,

"Perhaps we should do something else today," Gwyn nodded, and let him lead her away from the obstacle course.

*****

Azriel fought the panic at seeing Gwyn in danger, she was safe, she was unharmed, mostly. She sat onto a bench by the wall and Azriel mumbled for her to wait a moment, not quite paying attention until he had grabbed their medical kit, and found the bandages inside,

"Az, I'm fine," Gwyn insisted, but didn't stop him from binding her wrist, and she caught his hands as he finished, her own tiny beside his, barely covering them as she smiled at him, "Thank you."

"Probably best if you avoid using it too much for now, you're lucky it's your left, you'll still be able to fight if you want." Gwyn nodded, and waited with Nesta and Emerie while he and Cassian cleared the debris out of the way, "You get some hand to hand practice set up, I'll sort archery, Emerie at least will be wanting to practice with the brace." Cassian rested a hand on his shoulder, and met his eyes,

"Breathe." Azriel did, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it through his nose, "She's fine." Azriel glance back to the bench,

She's okay,

The shadows whispered in his ear again, as they'd been doing since the first step he took from her,

"She doesn't need you to protect her, not now at least, just to help her."

"I know that. I just, I don't know." Cassian smiled,

"I do. It's difficult, but they're capable, she fought off a full warrior on her own last night, unarmed, she can handle a bit of wood." They, who was they? He didn't ask though, it had just been a slip of the tongue, he couldn't possibly mean Nesta and Gwyn, perhaps he meant they as in the Valkyries, there'd be no point in comparing Nesta and Gwyn. Nesta was Cass's mate, and Gwyn was, whatever she was to him, no way. He could have sworn a sigh sounded in his ear, and he offered Cassian a small smile as he made his way to the archery range, finally relaxing fully at a light laugh from behind him. He didn't need to look to know what she looked like, head tossed backwards, hair slightly falling out of her braid. He loved it when she laughed, they way the skin next to her eyes crinkled a little, her dimples forming when she smiled, even the sound of it. She laughed again, and his shadows hummed in response, the sound echoing through his mind as he set up three targets.

Emerie was lagging a little behind, with Mor helping her to do up the brace, her wings set higher than usual, and she grinned. Mor accidentally nudged a wing as she did up the final clasp, and Emerie froze, but an accidental touch didn't usually elicit that response, perhaps clipped wings were different, perhaps a touch was just painful. Gwyn made her way over, but didn't move to touch a bow, good, it would be a very bad idea to try to shoot with an injured wrist. He'd see if he could fix it after the session had finished, when he was a bit calmer.

Nesta smirked at Cassian, slowly drawing an arrow from her quiver and twirling it through her fingers, before quickly sending it flying for the target. She didn't take her eyes off him the whole time, relying on her peripheral vision to aim,

"Nesta! Stop that." He snapped his fingers in front of her face as she raised an eyebrow, and grinned, Azriel didn't even want to know how Cassian had responded, "Stop flirting, especially by shooting things, it's weird." Nesta just shrugged,

"Whatever you say, chaperone." Azriel rolled his eyes,

"And how long does that continue for?"

"Until it stops being fun." Nesta looked sideways for a moment, thinking, "So never." Azriel groaned inwardly,

"Shoot the damn target." Emerie chuckled beside him, and Gwyn appeared next to her,

"You should know better than to spar with Nesta by now, Az,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, just," he broke off, Nesta was staring across the ring again, her gaze locked with Cassian's, "Do you two need five minutes?" Nesta shook herself,

"What?"

"Do you need to grab Cass for five minutes, we'll cope." Nesta flushed, and shook her head, muttering to herself, sounding remarkably like 'five minutes my ass', "What, Nes?"

"Nothing." She narrowed her eyes at him and went back to shooting the target. Azriel chuckled to himself as he helped Emerie with her position, and her aim. She grinned at the first arrow that flew straight, her confidence skyrocketing with each successive arrow. When she managed to hit the bulls-eye a whoop sounded behind them, Mor. He hadn't even realized she was back. Odd, usually he knew exactly where she was,

"Yes!" She shouted, her grin matching Emerie's as she ran over to the Illyrian female, "Do that again and we'll go out tonight for a celebration." Emerie did, and again, having three bulls-eyes by the end of the session, although Azriel only saw the first, missing both others when he was either telling Nesta off for making eyes at Cassian, or talking to Gwyn. At one point he had to bite down on his lip to keep from roaring with laughter at her assessment of Nesta's weird flirting. Still, Nesta had glared at them both, and Azriel had shoved Gwyn in front of him, with her jokingly 'protecting' him from Nesta's wrath.

Gwyn stayed to help clear up, and Azriel pretended not to note Cassian and Nesta's absence, but did grin on their return,

"Eight minutes, I do apologize, I underestimated you." He dodged the practice dagger that flew towards his head, although who had thrown it, he wasn't sure. "I do hope you plan on actually helping now." Cassian just sighed and shook his head, not bothering to reply,

"Gwyn, did you want to have lunch, I never let you finish earlier?" Nesta asked, tidying up the last practice swords,

"Oh, yeah, so long as you're not going to be busy."

"I'll meet you at one?" Gwyn nodded, and laughed when she wriggled against Cassian as he picked her up, and scrunched up her nose when he kissed it gently,

"You mean to say I have to be away from you all of lunch? However will I cope?" He wailed dramatically, Nesta just patted him on the cheek,

"Stop being a baby." She wriggled out of his arms, before dashing out to escape. Azriel smiled at Gwyn's shout after her friend, his shadows dancing and weaving with the sound of her laugh when Nesta flipped her off.

"Do you have time to practice a bit of silent fighting?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, tell you what, Cass! C'mere, Gwyn's gonna try and sneak up on us, and if we hear her, it'll be like she got caught and has to fight her way out."

"What? I can't fight you two!" Gwyn protested,

"Just one of us, whoever hears you first will act as your enemy, the other will coach you through the fight." He grinned, and Gwyn nodded,

"Okay, so long as you don't actually beat me up." She grinned, and waited a moment for the males to walk a bit away from her,

"I bet you I hear her first," Cassian whispered,

"Oh yeah, how much?"

"Five gold marks."

"Five? Ten."

"Fine." Azriel grinned to himself, knowing Gwyn was already moving, and grinned wider when she made a slight misstep, and Cassian made no indication that he'd heard her. He whirled to face her,

"Got you, defend yourself, and get out." Cassian swore behind him, but tossed Gwyn a practice sword, and she raised it into a block just before Azriel reached her, he stayed silent as he circled around her, blocking her exit,

"Look around you Gwyn, what can you use against him?" Gwyn frantically glanced around and launched an attack, pushing him back, back, but he stepped over the loose stone, and Gwyn lost her rhythm, scrambling backwards to avoid the blows raining down. "Think Gwyn, he's bigger than you, stronger than you, do not let him drag this into close combat." Gwyn nodded, slowing her breathing and moved to disarm him, and would have succeeded had Azriel not known exactly what she was about to do. "Careful, don't let him know what you're planning, feint, trick him." She didn't, a trick in itself, and Azriel barely dodged her blow,

"Let's make this interesting," she panted, "If I win, you have to sit through all of dinner with Nesta and Cassian." Ugh, not a chance, he was never letting her win now, breakfast with those two was bad enough. Gwyn yelped as she dived sideways,

"And when I win?"

"If you win. What do you want?"

"Teach me piano." She laughed but agreed, and feinted left, but struck right. Azriel was already there, moving too fast for Gwyn to respond quickly enough, her sword went flying across the room, and she ducked underneath his to try and wrench it out of his grip before he could move against her, but he was faster. Gwyn yelped as he slipped sideways, and flipped her over, carefully shielding her head as she fell. She glared at him, and wriggled, but couldn't dislodge him. She huffed, "I win." Gwyn narrowed her eyes, unwilling to admit it, but still glared at him when he let her up.

"Piano lesson tonight then," she muttered, "I'm having a bath."

Azriel chuckled as Gwyn stretched off, his worry about her wrist having vanished long ago and she waved at him as she vanished,

"Pay up." Cassian feigned shock, but sighed and handed over ten gold coins,

"Fuck you."

"Pleasure doing business." Cassian was still glaring at him as he left, and he could have sworn he heard a bark of laughter from down the hall when he changed into clean clothes. With Gwyn and Nesta out for lunch he had time to plan, to actually see what he could do about the coming conflict, because it was coming. He and Cassian found each other, well, Cassian dragged himself into Azriel's room, carrying an armful of reports,

"I got the reports on each camp, we can at least get an idea of numbers based on loyalty." Azriel sighed and let him in, falling into a familiar routine,

"Windhaven's loyal."

"Four hundred and twenty-seven."

"Ironcrest could go either way, I have conflicting reports,"

"Well, they have three hundred and eighty-five warriors." Azriel nodded, noting down locations and numbers on the map pinned on his wall as Cassian spoke, building a clearer picture of what a war could look like, if they would win it, or if they would need the Darkbringers as well. Cassian was studying the map with his own gaze, looking at troop movements and numbers more than locations, and lords' loyalty. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought, more than half the camps were loyal, about a third were absolutely not, and the others, well, he couldn't be sure. If all went to plan, they'd have over half of Illyria's warriors on their side, if it came to a war Azriel was confident they'd win, but the cost would be huge.

"It's not enough, we need to ensure that those unsure remain loyal." Cassian grunted in agreement,

"Perhaps we can get through to their females, and they can sway the undecided males, get Emerie to start something, and let it spread."

"We could get her to 'worry about her family in a war', that way other females will worry more, and convince their families not to try to start a war, and to be on the winning side if it comes to it." Cassian nodded,

"She's still staying here with Mor tonight I think." Azriel nodded,

"I'd be worried to go home too if I was her."

"I'm not sure that's, never mind, she'll go home tomorrow, maybe the day after, we can speak to her tomorrow at training." He was being weird. He couldn't mean something else, what was he not sure about? He almost asked,

Don't be stupid.

I'm not.

You are. It's Mor she's staying with, don't be stupid.

I - oh.

Azriel just smiled, and asked if Cassian wanted to talk to Rhys and Feyre or if he should,

"You have a piano lesson to get to, I'll head over now." He, shit. At some point the sun had indeed gone down, he hadn't even eaten dinner per say, but he supposed the endless plates of snacks probably counted, maybe. He couldn't help smiling to himself as he crossed the corridor and gently knocked on Gwyn's door,

"Hello Shadowsinger."

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #gwyn acosf #gwyn #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel

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